


Aphelion

by kokuhaku



Series: What If We Could? [2]
Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, I swear it'll be worth it, Or not!, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Unresolved Tension, make of that what you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 26,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21758755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokuhaku/pseuds/kokuhaku
Summary: Sophie tries to move on after Arthur falls into madness, but Joker has other plans. Sequel to What If We Could?
Relationships: Sophie Dumond/Arthur Fleck, Sophie Dumond/Joker
Series: What If We Could? [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1568191
Comments: 155
Kudos: 170





	1. High Risk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! After all the wonderful feedback, I decided to continue the story with a sequel. I'll leave the rest of my ramble for the end notes but for now, enjoy the first chapter!

Sophie never thought she would get her life together. A decent job, the occasional friend to talk to, one year sober. She was doing pretty well for herself, only getting better. Gotham was still a shithole, but she taught herself to ignore it. She taught herself a lot of things over the last year, healthy coping mechanisms, effectively avoiding toxicity. Crazy how ten minutes with a clown can throw everything off track.

The moment she closed her door after meeting with Joker, she felt sick. She stood over the kitchen sink, waiting for the distant, yet familiar sensation of bile to burn her throat. It never came, but she still stood there, hands gripping the edge of the counter. Just a year ago she threw up in the same sink after watching him shoot Murray Franklin dead on live television. She tried to drink to forget, and her body wouldn’t let her. She forced herself to as she lived with the memory of his descent for months, haunting her.

 _Recovery isn’t easy. Even when you’re a decade sober, you can still slip up and relapse. The more you try to hold onto your old life in recovery, the less well you’ll do._ The words of her AA mentor come back to her, words she’s memorized in her journey to sobriety.

_The most important thing to do is avoid high-risk situations. Whatever puts you back in that mindset has to be cut out. Look for healthy, alternative methods of coping that help you relax._

Sophie steps back, taking a deep breath. “Relax,” she whispers to herself. Relax.

She heats a pot of water for tea, changes into something comfortable. In her recovery, she began to listen to music, something she never considered before. She got a radio, the station always at classical. Whenever she’s feeling stressed, she turns it on. Sometimes she just keeps it on for the setting. When her tea is ready, she settles on the couch with a book. This is how she calms herself down.

But as she flips through the pages trying to focus on the story, she’s distracted by something. Sophie turns her head towards the front door, the rose he gave her on the floor. She dropped it when she came in. _Whatever puts you back in that mindset has to be cut out._ She should throw it away. But she’s not cruel.

She fills a glass with water to put it in, leaving it in the kitchen. Why’d he have to give her a rose? The note alone would’ve worked just fine. Roses are romantic, they mean love. He’s neither romantic nor has love for her. And yet… “Fuck,” Sophie says. She goes to her room. Underneath her bed is a shoebox that she hasn’t opened in months. She promised herself she never would. Another lie, she thinks to herself as she opens it.

The fake flowers he gave her, along with the note. _Thank you for being nice to me._ She had to reassure herself that she would see him again, that they would reunite despite the fact that he already committed several crimes. In a way, she was right and wrong. She did see him, but she only got Joker in return. Sophie closes the box; it was a mistake opening it. Just like it was a mistake going to the roof to meet him. She knew it was for both, but she still did it.

Sophie hasn’t stopped looking at the clock since she started her shift at 9 AM. It’s almost 1 PM. The daily rush starts soon, businessmen and women soon to be walking in on their breaks to get cash for a cheap lunch. The rush lasts for about an hour, then it’s quiet again until closing. She usually passes the time talking to her coworkers or reading, but she’s lost in her thoughts, mind still processing what happened last night.

 _I thought about you a lot in Arkham._ She mentally kicks herself for reacting the way she did, crying on the spot. She worked so hard to move past the memories of pain he left her. It’s like he knew exactly what to say to push her buttons, to bring her back to a year ago where she had to be pulled away from him by police. She was desperate to believe that they could still have a future together.

“…Sophie?”

Her manager, Mark, is standing next to her. Sophie clears her throat, caught off guard. “I’m sorry, hi. Is everything okay?”

“Can you come to the back?”

She follows him to the break room, wondering what’s going on. Did she do something wrong? The rest of her coworkers are there too. The television is on. Their expressions are nervous, on edge. All at once, she knows whatever it is has to do with him.

 _“…men wearing clown masks and suits entered the northwestern location of Gotham Savings Bank at 12:30 PM armed with guns. Shots were fired and three people are currently reported to be in the hospital, including one police officer who arrived at the scene early. Just a week ago, Joker escaped Arkham with the help of outside sources thought to be part of his growing following of criminals. After days of lying low, he’s finally…”_

Sophie looks away from the television. It’s happening, just like he said. _I’m going to make Gotham mine._

“The bank will be closing early today,” Mark says. “Starting tomorrow, we’ll have increased security. Undercover officers. And for the rest of your shifts, we’ll be going over the handbook and conducting drills. Okay?”

Everyone mumbles a collective _yes._

Sophie sits on the train, the science fiction book in her hands that she hasn’t bothered to open since yesterday. She and her coworkers went through several practice drills of what to do in the near-certain event of a robbery, Sophie half-heartedly going through the motions of having an eventual gun pointed in her face. Whether the person holding the gun will be Joker or his one of his henchmen remains to be seen.

A year ago, she would stop by the liquor store to get herself two bottles of wine after work. Now, she buys candles and bubble bath soap. A healthier addiction, one she can’t stop thinking of when she treks up the eight flights of stairs to her floor, remembering her promise to avoid taking the elevator as much.

The one time she has a remotely normal thought all day quickly ends when she spots something by her door. Another rose. A wave of varying emotions rush over her at once—confusion, realization, irritation. Why is he doing this? The rose has another note attached. _Hope you had a good day at work_. At the end of the sentence is a crude drawing of a dollar bill. He knows. He knows that she works at a bank. How? Without thinking, Sophie runs to the emergency exit.

“Joker!” She yells when she reaches the roof, frantically pacing around the same area they stood at just last night. She calls his name again, frustrated. Only the echo of her voice answers her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well?! I feel like this chapter is short but sometimes we need a nice little intro before we get into the crazy stuff. Let me know what you guys think! I'm so excited to be writing about these two again! :)


	2. Lying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Thanks for all the kudos and feedback on the first chapter, it's nice to see familiar (and new!) faces interested in seeing where the story goes next :)

Sophie throws his note away when she gets home, only to take it out of the trash can moments later. She’s a mixture of annoyed and anxious—annoyed that he’s playing these games with her, leaving roses and notes and constantly being on her mind, but her nerves are telling her to look past the initial irritation. He knows that she works at a bank. He didn’t target her location first for whatever reason, but he wrote that note for her with it in mind.

_The most important thing to do is avoid high-risk situations. Whatever puts you back in that mindset has to be cut out._

She adds the new rose to the glass of water along with the first one. It’s a bad idea. Even something as small as a flower can be triggering. But she keeps them, going to her room to put his note in the shoebox under her bed. The only thing on her mind now is how stressed this situation is making her and how badly she wants to take a bath. She goes into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

It was hard for her to step in a tub again after her incident last year. Just entertaining the thought instantly reminded her of the water that filled her lungs, taking her back to the past in vivid detail. But she couldn’t let fear control her, telling herself that she’ll never be that far gone again, she’ll never leave her life in the hands of an intoxicated body prone to reckless decisions. Being in a different tub than the one that she almost drowned in would help, but her salary doesn’t give her much of a choice.

Joker coming back hasn’t helped either, her memories of Arthur almost impossible to avoid now. He spent so much time in her apartment, in her space, he’s everywhere. He never really left. Sophie just did a good job at hiding his presence. But was she ever that good if Joker could throw her off track so easily the moment he came back?

Sophie has to remind herself that her situation was never normal. She couldn’t go to AA and tell her peers that she was dating the man who eventually became Joker. It was already difficult enough in the beginning, trying to erase his name from her history. Instead, she told them that she was in a bad relationship, a toxic one that drove her to drink. In a way, it was true. But it still hurt her to categorize her relationship with Arthur as toxic. He was never bad to her. He never laid a hand on her. He did terrible things, yes, but he was never terrible to her. Even when he began his descent into madness.

She thinks back to last night on the roof, Joker wiping her tear away. Was that him? Or was it Arthur? Somewhere deep down in the depths of Joker’s tortured mind, reaching out to her? She doesn’t know. Either way, it makes her uncomfortable. The thought of there still being a part of Arthur in him, she can feel it pulling her closer to him, like a magnet.

Sophie decides to treat herself to a latte before work. The coffee machine at her job half-functions at best and she can use any kind of positivity to get her through whatever kind of day it’ll be. If Joker plans on busting in with his machine gun-wielding followers, at least her last meal won’t be lukewarm caffeine in a Styrofoam cup.

“Miss Dumond?”

She’s about to cross the street to get to the bank when she hears it. A man’s voice, vaguely familiar, it doesn’t come back to her until she turns around. Detective Garrity, and next to him, Detective Burke.

_We have some questions about your relationship with Arthur Fleck._

His words come back to her like déjà vu, their first meeting on the day of Murray’s show. Both of them were jumped at the subway station on the same day; it wasn’t until later when Joker was behind bars that Sophie learned through the news it was his fault. Right when he left their apartment building after killing his former coworker and leaving those flowers for her, Sophie walked in, unaware. They chased him to no avail, ending up in the hospital instead. Both detectives were injured, but Burke had several broken bones. Neither of them could interview her after Joker was arrested.

She was minutes away from seeing him, a thought she always had on her mind during those first few months. What would’ve happened? Would he have said anything to her? Would she even have recognized him in the clown makeup and green hair? Would he have changed his mind about what he was planning to do? So many what-ifs, scenarios that she had to tell herself had no relevance. What happened, happened. There was no changing that. She just had to live with it.

“Detectives,” Sophie says, eyeing them both. “It’s been a while.”

“It has. How are you doing?”

She tries her best to smile, despite knowing why they want to talk to her. “I’m managing.” She looks at Burke. “I heard about what happened. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I'm fine now,” he mumbles. “Thanks.”

“I’m sure you’ve heard the news.” Garrity continues.

“It’s impossible to avoid. Especially since I work at a bank. Is that why you wanted to talk?”

“Something like that. Our last conversation didn’t end that well, but we’re hoping you can cooperate with us this time.”

Sophie doesn’t say anything.

“Has Joker been in contact with you?”

It would be so easy. Just tell them the truth, tell them about the letters, tell them that he knows where she works. Just spill everything. Then what? Protective services? Asking her to work undercover for them? Can she really betray him like that?

Betray. Is that what she thinks of it? Betraying him, Joker? She lied for him once and look what happened. Now she’s actually considering doing it again. Lying for a murderer, someone who isn’t even the man that she fell in love with.

“No.”

Garrity and Burke exchange a look. “Miss Dumond, this is different from the first time. Arthur—Joker—we’re dealing with Joker here. I don’t need to tell you that he’s incredibly dangerous. Gotham is only going to get worse the longer he’s roaming the streets. If you’re worried about your safety, we can—”

“I don’t know anything, okay? Please. I just want to move on.” Sophie sighs. “I have to go; I’m going to be late for work.”

They don’t protest any further, Garrity instead handing her a card. “Please give us a call if anything comes up.”

Sophie nods, putting the card in her purse without a second glance before crossing the street. Lying to the police—again. What’s wrong with you, she thinks to herself as she enters the bank. What the fuck are you going to do now? She sits at her booth, her appetite for her latte gone the moment she spoke to the detectives. What good is it to lie to them when they’re already on high alert? She knows this, and she still did it. She’s helping him and she doesn’t even know what he’s up to.


	3. Questions

It was easy to tell who the undercover cops were. The robbery had everyone on edge, and Sophie’s location hardly got customers. The cops sat at the couches in the lobby, rotating shifts every few hours. Sophie was too distracted to even consider reading her long-forgotten book and she had nothing better to do unless she wanted to spend her entire shift thinking about how she lied to Garrity and Burke for the second time, so she watched the cops as they sat or walked lazily around the lobby instead, perking up with interest whenever someone who wasn’t one of them walked into the bank.

But nothing happened. The few people who came and went throughout the day did so without hassle, albeit rushing more than usual to avoid the chance of being there in case of the worst. After the lunch rush, the chances became unlikely and Sophie turned her attention to how slow the clock hands were moving.

She’s more than relieved when it’s ten minutes to closing, wanting nothing more than to just go home. She’s never hated her job but with everything that’s happened, simply being there is giving her more stress than a difficult customer.

The cops are talking amongst themselves when someone walks in. They give him a quick glance before continuing their conversation. She sighs. There’s always that one person who has to show up so close to closing, but Sophie hides the annoyance on her face when he walks to her booth.

“Hi,” she looks at him through the bars separating them. “How can I help you?”

He’s young, almost straggly in appearance. His eyes dart everywhere before finally landing on her. “I want to open an account here.”

“You have to fill out some paperwork first. Do you have all of your appropriate files on hand?”

“Like what?”

She gives him a look that screams _are you serious_? “A valid ID, your birth certificate or SSN and a deposit.”

“Oh,” His head turns, like he’s searching for something that caught his attention. “I don’t have any of that.”

“You need those first. Then you can fill out the paperwork. Do you want a guidebook?” Sophie opens her drawer, looking for one of the bank manuals.

“No, it’s fine,” he’s walking back, nearing the exit. “Bye.”

She doesn’t give it a second thought, closing her drawer so she can finally clock out and leave.

Sophie decides against taking the stairs this time, her body tired from doing absolutely nothing all day. As she waits for the elevator to get to her floor, a dormant thought in the back of her mind suddenly presents itself. What kind of note did he leave her today? Sophie almost smacks herself on the forehead. How could she forget so easily? It’s as if the memories of his gifts don’t come back to her until she gets home. Repressing them for as long as she can, only to be confronted with reality in the one place that's supposed to be her escape.

The elevator door opens. Even in the dim lighting of the hallway, she can’t spot anything near her door. She walks closer. No rose. No note. Nothing. Strange. Does he only plan on leaving them when he has something to say to her? She unlocks her door, a tinge of disappointment creeping up. She can’t believe herself—actually anticipating something from him.

Sophie turns the light on in the kitchen, setting her purse down. She gazes over to the glass on the counter, the three roses still there—wait.

Three roses.

Her eyes catch a spark of light coming from nearby. She’s frozen. Then it becomes obvious. She walks out of the kitchen, going to the living room to turn the lamp on. There he is. Sitting on her couch, legs crossed like he owns the place. Cigarette on his painted lips.

“How did you get in here?” Sophie asks, remembering the first time he broke in. She never got an answer for that incident, either.

“Locks in old buildings are easy.” A cloud of smoke surrounds him, masking his face in a way that reminds her of those old noir movies.

“You can’t be here.”

“Why not?”

Sophie has to stop herself from saying what’s really on her mind. _You fucking know why, don’t play dumb._ She sighs instead. “Whatever you’re planning on doing, I don’t want to know. Just leave. Please.” She doesn’t believe herself when she says it, and the smirk on his face tells her that he shares the same thought. She should want him to go, but just a minute ago she was ready to sulk over the fact that he didn’t leave another rose at her door.

Despite this, he stands, digging his cigarette into the empty ashtray at the coffee table. He says nothing as he walks past her, the familiar smell of his preferred brand of cigarettes causing her to close her eyes. _Goddamn it, Sophie._

“Wait,” she says, her voice small. She doesn’t look at him, the creaky floorboards in her living suddenly silent, letting her know that he stopped. “They’re asking about you—the police. They stopped me today.”

“I know.”

Sophie turns her head, finally meeting his amused expression. “How?”

He starts to laugh, a light chuckle.

All at once, it makes sense, and she suddenly feels dumb for not realizing earlier. Of course he would know. He has a whole following of criminals with god knows how much knowledge of how to get information in the city. Eyes and ears everywhere. She tries to replay the day in her head, such mundane daily tasks that she never thinks twice about. One of his henchmen posing as a random passerby when she was talking to the detectives? People were walking in all directions, no way to know who was listening. Then it hits her.

“You had someone come into the bank today, didn’t you? Right before it closed?”

“I did.”

“We’re next...” she trails off, watching his reaction. “That’s what that meant? You’re casing the place out?”

“Why did you tell me about the police talking to you?”

Sophie pauses, not expecting that response from him. He smiles. “I answered some of your questions, right? You can at least answer this one.”

It was reckless, beyond stupid. Giving that kind of information to someone as dangerous as him, someone who already told her that he plans on bringing Gotham deeper into the depths of chaos. She keeps telling herself that she shouldn’t want him in her life, and then she ends up doing the complete opposite. He isn’t Arthur anymore, but whenever she's around him there's something in her that wants to believe otherwise despite the giant red flag. She hates it, hates that he's making her feel this way.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “That’s not the answer you want, but I really don’t.”

“That’s exactly the kind of answer I was looking for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally... Joker makes an appearance! I kind of like the idea of him having a heavy influence in Sophie's life even when he isn't present, but I like it even better when he's actually there! I'm sure you guys agree haha x


	4. A Distraction

It’s a strange feeling, knowing that something is going to happen. In Sophie’s case, knowing that her location is Joker’s next target. After he left, she stood in her living room, a deep regret overcoming her. Whenever she’s around him, all sense of rationality disappears. Even knowing that it’s not him. That it’s not Arthur.

She wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t know. She can’t put into words what made her tell him, can’t explain why she thought it would be a good idea. But that’s not what alarmed her the most. _That’s exactly the kind of answer I was looking for._

Her indecisiveness is a game to him. His amused reactions, his laughter whenever she asks him a question, all a part of this fucked up web of mayhem that she wants nothing to do with. But really, what choice does she have? She keeps trying to escape it, but she was stuck the moment she decided to stay in Gotham. He’s been thinking about her, watching her. He never forgot her.

Arthur may have died but Joker still has control of his memories, and he chose to remember Sophie. Of all things, her. It scares her, but at the same time, there’s something else that she feels, something far from fear. Comfort? Ease? Acceptance? She’s unable to put it into words, but she can’t stand the contradiction.

Time moved slow for Sophie the moment he closed her door. She couldn’t concentrate, so she didn’t read. She wasn’t hungry, so her leftovers remained untouched. She couldn’t sleep, instead sitting in bed, looking aimlessly out the window. Watching the faint flash of police and ambulance sirens, listening to the distant rumbles from people in her building, all she had the energy to do was wait. Wait for the inevitable moment.

The moment doesn’t come. Sophie finishes her days at work in uneasy silence, men in clown masks and bold suits never showing up, never pointing a machine gun to her face demanding cash, never seeing him. Joker. After he left her apartment that night, she stopped getting roses at her door. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t disappointed, maybe a little hurt. It’s a silly thing to be upset about, but that’s how she felt every time she walked down the hallway to an empty present.

He reentered her life so unexpected, only to abruptly leave. Again. He left her again. She can only blame herself this time. Getting attached that quick, holding onto a fantasy. What did she think was going to happen? He’s on the run, a wanted criminal. The most dangerous man in Gotham. But as the days turn into weeks, she hears less about him in the news. There’s nothing to report—he hasn’t robbed any more banks; crime is still high but none of it is linked to him. He showed up with a bang, just to disappear.

Eventually, the hurt she felt is stored in the back of her mind, along with the thought of him. If it weren’t for the occasional mention of him in passing or during her weekly AA meeting, she might’ve believed herself if she said she imagined the whole thing. The roses he gave her dried and withered so she had to throw them away after a few days. All of his gifts became nothing, just a memory. She really could lie to herself if she wanted to.

But all she has to do is look under her bed, pull the shoebox out. Memories that were meant to be locked away, exposed again. She kept every letter he gave her since breaking out, they’re at the top of the pile of small gifts she has from him. Those folded pieces of paper with his messy handwriting, her reminder that it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t something she made up. She saw him again because he chose for it to happen, just like he chose to stop seeing her.

Sophie’s grateful that her peers at AA stopped talking about him. It was already bad enough feeling that pang of pain at just hearing his name, but any mention of him left her distracted in the one place where she needed to focus. Going to AA was a different kind of oasis; whereas home was her space to relax and get away from Gotham’s decline, AA was where she reminded herself of why she chose to go there. To improve herself, always looking for new ways to distance herself from that dark place that she used to be in.

Every sobriety chip she earned was like a small pat on the back to herself, the constant encouragement she needed to keep going. She keeps the chips in her bedroom as opposed to the living room, not that she ever gets visitors who would curiously ask her about them, but the achievements are personal for her, intimate. Her coworkers don’t know about her past addiction, only those at AA do.

She usually arrives to her meetings a little late depending on how bad her commute is from work. This day is no different. Walking down the creaky steps of the church to get to the basement, Sophie gives her usual apologetic wave as she rushes to take her seat next to Marie, one of her peers. Marie hands her a cup of coffee as she sits down, a custom whenever she knows that Sophie won’t be there on time.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Sophie whispers to her.

Marie is nice, one of the only people Sophie has gotten closest to throughout her year in AA. An older woman, she’s been sober for a decade, attending meetings weekly since her decision to get clean. She was the first person to talk to Sophie, approaching her with a warm smile as Sophie sat awkwardly in the back row of the basement, anxious and embarrassed as all first-timers are. Marie welcomed her with open arms—literally.

There’s a motherly aura to her that Sophie is drawn to. She hasn’t spoken to her own mother since that fateful phone call a year before, and promised herself that she never would. Talking about her at AA was a different kind of pain compared to Arthur, another wound that could only be healed if she moved on instead of beating herself up over what she should’ve or could’ve done.

The rest of the meeting goes by normally, no new members joined this week so everyone went around the room giving updates on their recovery progress, some venting more than others. Sophie was never the type to rant and she still isn’t, not wanting to feel like a burden even when being open is the whole point of going to AA. She’s gotten better over the months, but still keeps her updates short and simple.

“Everything’s been fine,” she says, looking ahead so she doesn’t have to make eye contact with her peers. Even being there for a year still hasn’t eased her nerves when it comes to talking to a crowd. “Work is good, uh—”

“It had to be a little stressful with that bank robbery a few weeks ago, right?” Her mentor asks her and she smiles, already looking for a way to dance around the topic.

“It was, but, what can you do? You still have to go to work. Um…everything’s been fine. I’m boring, really.”

“Well, boring is good in this case.”

A few people in the crowd chuckle and Sophie promptly sits down.

When the meeting is over, Sophie starts for the exit when Marie stops her. Sophie’s never been the type to stick around too long unless she’s made plans to go out for a coffee. “What’s up?” Sophie asks.

“You sure you’re doing okay? You’ve seemed distracted these last few weeks.” That motherly instinct always in effect. Sophie gives Marie her most reassuring smile.

“It’s just been a little hectic at work. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Marie reaches out, her hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “We’re all nervous about him.” She doesn’t have to ask to know who “him” is. “It’s okay to be. But don’t feel like you have to bottle it up. We know what happens when we do that and…well, you’ve been doing great.”

“Marie, I…” Sophie trails off, trying to find the right words, any words that can evade saying his name. “Thank you. I have been nervous, but I don’t think about it. I don’t want it to consume me. I guess I have been distracted lately… I haven’t noticed. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

She nods, and Sophie senses that she’s satisfied with the answer, even with how much she rambled. “You know I’m always a phone call away if you need to talk.”

“I know. I’ll be fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He shows up, he disappears...where did he go?! Who knows :^)


	5. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I had some time today so I was able to get this new chapter out for you guys! Going by the title, I'm sure a lot of you will be satisfied.... :)

A month goes by and everything almost feels normal again. The undercover cops rotating shifts at the bank went from multiple to just one, no need to pay them for sitting on their asses all day when they could be doing something productive. Not that it would make a difference, it’s not like Gotham’s crime rate is ever going to go down; but a cop on the street is better than a cop lazily wasting time in pedestrian clothes talking to security, much like the one still stationed at her location of Gotham Savings Bank.

The bank still has its slow periods, but the hours don’t feel as long as they used to when news of the first robbery came out and no one wanted to show their face, not even to make a quick withdrawal. That’s how it goes in Gotham—terror, fear, acceptance, repeat. Although the threat is always in the back of everyone’s mind, eventually the daily routine is continued until the inevitable terror happens again. An unspoken rule of living in Gotham, one that you have to live by no matter what side you’re on.

Even with the somewhat return to normalcy, there are still times when Sophie finds herself watching others more intently than the rest, her brief encounter with one of Joker’s henchmen the month before occasionally on her mind. What an unappealing looking kid, easily blending into Gotham’s working class. His lack of flash compared to Joker and his bright red suit and outward appearance. She’s still shocked at the way he was able to rally so many citizens based on their anger. Maybe if she was angry enough, she would’ve agreed with him. Maybe if she didn’t know Arthur, she would’ve followed him.

But whenever her day ends without any strange interactions or interruptions, she’s reminded that she should be grateful that nothing happened. The acceptance phase in Gotham only lasts for so long, living in paranoia throughout it only does more damage than good. Wake up, go to work, return home. A simple routine that most don’t realize is taken for granted. She accepts her boring days; it can always be worse. So much worse.

This day is no different. Sophie got home later than usual the night before due to her AA meeting and a delayed train so she gets coffee with an extra espresso shot before work, a much-needed energy boost after spending longer than she wanted in Gotham’s nightlife. There’s a small rush when the bank first opens, mostly older people. The resident undercover cop is caught up in a joke with security when the front doors suddenly burst open, suited men in clown masks rushing in and filling the previously muted air, the sound of bullets firing into the ceiling suddenly mixing with terrified yells.

The next few moments are a blur. Within seconds, the security guard and undercover cop drop to the floor. They didn’t have a chance to draw their weapons before getting hit. She can’t count how many masked men there are because they quickly separate, running towards the booths where she and her coworkers are stationed. Two men stay in the lobby to watch over the few customers unlucky enough to be in the bank. They’re already cowering on the floor.

“Let’s make this nice and simple folks, you know what to do! And don’t try sneaking any dye in there, either! Or else—” One of the men at the lobby starts firing rounds into the deceased officers.

It’s finally happened again. Gotham in the terror phase once more, the cycle repeating itself. A bubbling pot that’s finally spilled over. Sophie is motionless, the only movement being her eyes darting in all directions. In her frantic state, she notices that there are men in front of every booth except for hers, her coworkers practically throwing money at them while they try to fit it into bags. She looks ahead.

There’s someone walking towards her, he doesn’t run like the rest. His suit is red, the only one among the colorful crowd. Despite the mask covering his face, she can just make out the strands of green hair that’s slicked back.

It’s him.

The blur she was experiencing suddenly freezes, and it’s just them. She anticipated him pointing a gun in her face, played the scenario out in her head for weeks. But it never comes. The only hand that raises is the one holding a large duffel bag. He tosses it over the bars and she catches it. Her eyes never leave his as she palms her way through the cashier drawer, only breaking contact to open the safe underneath her desk.

When everything is empty, she holds the bag out to him. He cocks his head in a playful way, too casual for the situation that they’re in. She can’t help but wonder if he’s smiling underneath it, the fake plastic grin of the mask hiding an even bigger grin at the chaos he’s causing.

Sophie turns her head. In their moment, she missed his men following her coworkers to the back where the larger safe is, sorting through stacks of bills before throwing them into duffel bags on the floor. She starts to stumble back when the door leading to the break room opens, one of his men dragging out her manager. His face is flushed red, blood trailing from his nose. “He tried calling the fucking cops!”

“Time to wrap it up, boys!” Joker shouts, his voice muffled through the mask. Sophie doesn’t have the time to react before he suddenly grabs her, holding her against his chest. Her grip on the bag of money tightens. “Take me to the back exit,” he whispers in her ear. She’s momentarily paralyzed at the sound of his voice, just hearing it so close to her giving her goosebumps. It isn’t until he pushes her forward himself that her feet start to move, getting ready to lead him to the break room.

“What about this fucker, boss?” His henchman asks, kicking her manager in the ribs.

“Do whatever you want.”

Sophie opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. It’s no use when Joker is already motioning her to walk ahead, his men grabbing their bags to follow behind. The door to her manager’s office is open, the phone off the hook and papers scattered everywhere. As she leads Joker past the office and down the hallway to where the back exit is, she stops when she hears a single gunshot, followed by screams.

“Keep moving.” He says.

The exit goes to an alley, where a white van is blocking the only way to get to the street. The doors are open, another masked man waiting. Joker takes the lead this time, pushing Sophie into the back of the van while his men pile all the bags inside.

“Don’t start slacking now!” He yells, taking his mask off. His makeup is smudged, a blue streak trailing down his cheek. He smiles at her when he catches her staring, sitting across from her as the last of his men hop in the van.

It takes the doors shutting behind them for her to realize that she’s being kidnapped.


	6. Consequence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO EVERYONE! Happy New Year! It's been a while! I was enjoying the holiday for a bit but then I got sick :( I'm finally feeling better and all I've wanted to do is UPDATE so let me stop rambling so you guys can read it!

“You have to let me go,” Sophie says, the first time she’s spoken up since the robbery. “I can’t be here.”

Despite the moving van, she starts to sit up, only to be pushed back down by him. He reaches across to put on her seatbelt, and the last thing she sees is a flash of his yellow vest before everything goes dark. A blindfold.

“Where are you taking me?”

He doesn’t answer, the sound of duffel bags shuffling against each other filling the air instead as the van continues to drive into the unknown. She’s surprised she hasn’t started screaming for help, given the situation. She’s just been kidnapped, taken from her job where multiple people are dead. That lone gunshot has been ringing in her ears since she heard it in the hallway, the shot that may or may not have killed her manager. She doesn’t want to believe it happened. She just needs to get out of here; maybe she can still salvage what little normalcy she has left in her life, pick up the remaining pieces in the aftermath of his mayhem.

“Please,” she knows she sounds desperate. She is. She doesn’t try to hide it. “I can’t go wherever you’re taking me.”

“You don’t know where I’m taking you.”

“Joker,” her voice is always soft when she says his name, still not used to calling him by it. “I can’t do this.”

She can just make out a sigh from him, followed by unfamiliar noises. Vague whispers, maybe from him. The van screeches to a halt. She jerks forward abruptly, the seatbelt stopping her from falling to the floor. Maybe Joker is good for something.

The back doors open, and someone unlocks her seatbelt before taking both of her hands to lead her out. He doesn’t say anything, but she knows it’s him. If it weren’t for the familiar smell of his go-to brand of cigarettes, it would be his presence that gives it away. She saw how his men treated her coworkers and the customers at her job. Rough, mean. Impersonal. No problem hurting or shooting someone if needed, and it seems like they want to. He never once pointed the gun to her face.

He doesn’t let go of her hands as they walk, Sophie trying to make use of every sense but sight to figure out where she is. The ground is hard and uneven, like gravel. Maybe concrete. They can’t be downtown anymore, she doesn’t hear the usual sounds of passing cars, distant yelling, overall pedestrian life. They drove for what felt like forever, maybe they went far enough to reach outside of the city? She’s unable to tell.

He stops her.

“Count to fifty, then you can take it off.”

“Where am I?”

“Just trust me.”

“The last time you told me to trust you, I watched you kill someone on TV.”

That makes him laugh, of course he would think it’s a joke. “Start counting.”

“I—” Sophie feels him swiftly brush against her shoulder as he runs back to the van. The doors close and the tires screech again as it drives off, the sound getting smaller and smaller. She stands there, mouth still open in mid-sentence. She finally starts counting.

When she gets to fifty, she reaches to take the blindfold off. She’s standing on dirt and rocks, Gotham’s waterfront steps ahead. She turns. The outskirts of the city, unfinished buildings still under construction. It’s desolate, creepy. No one in sight. But it could be worse. He could’ve dropped her off in the Narrows and then she wouldn’t have had the time or safety to count to fifty uninterrupted. The van went left so she heads right, eventually hitting the sidewalk after walking on uneven ground that’s not so friendly to her work heels.

Just when she starts to wonder how long it’ll take her to reach any kind of public transportation, sirens sound off in the distance. The annoyingly repetitive alarm gets closer, two police cars suddenly zooming down the previously empty street. They don’t stop until they reach her at the side of the road. One door opens. Detective Garrity gets out.

“Miss Dumond.”

Sophie can only stare in response before finding her words. “How—how did you know where I was?”

“We got an anonymous call.” Joker. The look on Garrity’s face tells Sophie that he’s thinking the same thing. “We need to have that talk now.”

Sophie sits in silence, back in an interrogation room of Gotham City Police Department for the second time in her life. All because of Joker. The fact that she ended up in the exact same room from last year is only further conviction that life is playing some sort of sick game on her, one that he would find hilarious if he isn't already laughing. All that’s missing is his clown paint smudged across her face. She didn’t want to end up here again, memories of her first interrogation still painful to remember. But her nerves are outweighing the hurt this time, realizing that she’s not the innocent girlfriend of Arthur Fleck anymore. How was she supposed to know that he was going to fall into madness, only for Joker to reveal himself at the end? She had no clue then. She knows things now. Things that can get her into trouble.

Garrity and Burke walk in, the former holding a Styrofoam cup. They sit across from her and he slides the cup to her. “Coffee?”

She thanks him, taking it but not drinking any.

“Is Mark okay?” Sophie asks, the image of her bloodied manager and the gunshot that followed coming to mind again. Maybe, just maybe if he lived, she won’t feel as terrible about what happened. Maybe she can even convince herself that moving forward is still an option.

Garrity shakes his head. “He died.” He pauses, searching for Sophie’s reaction. She can’t say anything, only looking down at the cup. No, life won’t give her that satisfaction. She had her chance. “Does Joker know you work at a bank?”

“I, um…I don’t—”

“Miss Dumond,” Burke cuts in. She looks at him. “You really don’t want to lie here. Not now.”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No—I—he, I think he had someone following me.”

“What made you come to that conclusion?”

“He left…a rose a day for me at my door. Then they stopped.”

“Anything else to indicate that they came from him? A signature?”

Sophie looks down again, sighing. She can’t hide it anymore. She doesn’t know much about the law, but she does know that they have more than enough evidence to obtain a search warrant. The minute they find the shoebox, it’s over. Might as well get it over with now. “Notes.”

“What did they say?”

“One asked me if I had a good day at work after the first bank robbery and the other one…the other one told me to meet him on the roof of my building.”

Silence from both of them. Garrity finally speaks up. “You met with him?”

She nods.

“Why didn’t you tell the police?”

Sophie doesn’t say anything, unable to answer the question.

“Miss Dumond—” Burke starts, but Garrity cuts in again.

“When did this meeting happen?”

“A week after he broke out of Arkham.”

They both stand, leaving her alone in the room. Sophie knows it’s coming, no way to avoid it happening. All she can think of is when she held his note in her hands a month before, knowing that it was a mistake to keep, but ignoring all sense to still do it.

_The most important thing to do is avoid high-risk situations._

Every move she’s made since seeing him again has put her in a high-risk situation. She can’t be surprised when she finally gets a consequence worthy of the action. They walk back in less than five minutes later.

“Sophie Dumond, we’re placing you under arrest.”


	7. Escape

After Garrity and Burke read Sophie her Miranda rights, they handcuff her and lead her out of the interrogation room to get her mugshot. She’s in a cell within ten minutes, sitting on an uncomfortable cot that’s supposed to pass as a bed. All she can do is stare ahead at the colorless brick wall in front of her.

Accessory to several crimes, that’s what they told her. Failing to report him when she had the chance, multiple chances at that. And she said nothing. She did nothing. She couldn’t point the finger at him if she tried. He never threatened her. He even told her that he was planning on robbing her location next. Sophie had a month to speak up and she decided to keep silent instead. There’s no one to blame but herself. She didn’t want to be disloyal to him and yet she’s the one who ended up behind bars while he’s free with loads of cash doing god knows what. Maybe she should’ve just went with him.

She’ll have to miss work tomorrow, miss her AA meeting, miss everything because she’s in jail. “I’m in jail,” she says to herself, as if to solidify it. “I’m in fucking jail.” She doesn’t know anything about this, how to handle a situation like it. She can’t afford a lawyer, wouldn’t know one even if she did. She’s fucked. Accessory to several crimes isn’t as bad as murder but it’s not pretty, especially when it looks like she betrayed her job. _Her_ job. She keeps saying it in her head like she still has one.

No one will forgive her for sitting on knowledge that Joker planned on targeting them next and not saying anything. She already knows that they’ll blame her for Mark’s death because she blames herself. Mark, along with the two police officers, three people who could still be alive right now if she said something. But she didn’t. She chose to protect a murderer.

_Just trust me_.

And here she thought watching someone get their brains blown out on television was as bad as it could get. So much for trusting his word. Thanks, Joker.

Sophie lies in bed facing the wall closest to her. There’s a tray of uneaten food on the floor, a sad attempt at a sandwich and soup combo that’s supposed to be dinner. She’s not hungry. The small window above her cot is blocked by bars, but the gradual fade of light tells her that it’s nighttime. How much time has passed, she doesn’t know. She’s been in and out of sleep, the occasional sound of rattling metal waking her up, only to doze off a few minutes later.

She doesn’t think anything of the yelling she hears throughout the night, attributing the noise to some rowdy criminal who thinks randomly screaming at the top of his or her lungs will get them out despite already being in custody. She is in jail, after all. After a few hours, all of the yells and grunts and groans start to blur into one big mass of sound that she blocks out. That’s what she initially does when she hears a low rumbling echo throughout the building, probably the old pipes acting up. She doubts that anyone fixes anything in here. But when that same rumbling gets so loud that it causes her untouched tray of food to shake, she finally sits up. The cup of water is vibrating so much that liquid is spilling over. As she reaches down to take it, a loud crash sounds off.

Sophie freezes momentarily before stumbling off the cot, trying to peek through the bars of her cell. Some other inmates are already craning their necks to look where the commotion is coming from. The noise came from the other room, in the office space for the department. She can just make out the sound of shouting mixed in with the quick popping of gunshots. The crash sounded like something big made impact with the building, but what? She jumps back when there’s a loud thud against the metal door to enter the cells. More shouting, closer now. Right outside. Then it stops.

The door creaks open and Sophie steps away from the bars, not stopping until her back is pressed against the wall. Several footsteps walk down the hallway, passing each cell in an eerie silence. No comments from any of the inmates, no noise. All of their shouting and swearing, suddenly gone. They’re speechless. Sophie sinks closer into the darkness of her room, trying to conceal herself from whatever it is that’s left them without words.

“H-here. She’s in here!”

Sophie sees the shoes first. Brown leather, stopping in front of her cell. She can just hardly make out the color of his pants from where she’s standing, but she knows it’s red. Of course it is. Her eyes trail to his face, finally meeting his. Just like that, time seems to have frozen over again. It’s only them in this space, watching each other, waiting to see who’ll make the next move. If he left it up to her, they would’ve stood like that for hours. Instead, a hint of a smile forms on his lips, deciding to be the one to do it.

“I came to pick you up, unless you want to stay here.” He raises his hand, jingling a set of keys.

She steps forward, slowly. As she reaches the bars, she sees an officer on his knees, two masked men standing above him. The man looks up at her, battered and terrified. Joker unlocks her cell.

“No orange jumpsuit?” He asks, eyeing her unchanged work clothes.

“You almost sound disappointed.”

He smirks and motions for her to go to the exit. Curious eyes from behind bars watch as she walks to an impromptu escape; Sophie can only stare ahead to avoid meeting any of them, her face hot with embarrassment. She has no reason to feel this way, she doesn’t know any of these people, but just being subject to their stares is enough for her to want to run.

“Hell of a way to get out early, huh?” He asks them, amusement in his voice. He can’t even see her flustered expression, but he knows exactly what to do to push her buttons. She turns her head just enough to catch a glimpse of him tossing the keys into a random cell as he follows her out.

Sophie can hardly believe what she’s looking at when she enters the office space to find a large hole in the wall. Chunks of plaster and concrete are scattered across what appears to be lifeless bodies. She doesn’t have a chance to examine everything in closer detail as Joker rushes her to their makeshift exit that leads into the alley. Another van is waiting for them, but he takes her to a black car with tinted windows. 

She gets in the back seat, Joker joining her. She’s silent when the car starts to move, staring at the driver’s seat, another henchman once again heading into the unknown. This time, she won’t ask to leave. She doubts that he would even comply if she did, given what he had to do to break her out of jail. She would laugh if she had the energy or sense of humor to. Never did she think it would come to this, being kidnapped, arrested, escaping hours later. It’s a struggle to even remember what happened the morning of, little normalcies of her daily routine that she took for granted.

“This is usually the part where you thank me.”

She turns her head, looking at him. The last thing on her mind is gratitude. “Why did you decide to show up now? It’s been a month. Where have you been?”

“You told me that you didn’t want to know.”

Sophie blinks, actually in disbelief. Of all things, that’s when he decides to listen to her. She should be grateful that he didn’t include her in his plans, but at the end of the day it didn’t matter because she still got dragged into them. She finds herself thinking back to that last conversation; strangely enough, she took that for granted, too. Her secret dialogue with him, how she would anticipate getting a rose with another note. His last question to her, and how she was unable to answer him before he disappeared without a trace.

_Why did you tell me about the police talking to you?_

“Why did you come back for me?” Sophie asks. “Again. You came back for me again. What do you want?”

“Did you want to stay in jail?”

“Don’t do this with me right now. Please.”

He sighs, digging in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. He lights one. Takes a drag. “I guess I don’t know either.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now she's really stuck with him.......... bad thing or good thing? Or both?!


	8. Welcome Home

The rest of the ride is silent. Sophie couldn’t think of how to respond, and she would be a hypocrite if she protested him saying that he didn’t know. Their uncertainty is the only thing they have in common because everything else is the polar opposite. He wants to terrorize Gotham, Sophie wants some kind of tranquil in the decaying city. And yet, they keep crossing paths, their one connection being Arthur.

She’s tried not to think of him. It’s useless, he’s not here anymore, Joker’s influence completely taking over. But part of her still can’t help but wonder if this kindness—if she can even call it that—he has for her is because there’s still a piece of Arthur in him. It’s silly to think, their personalities aren’t similar in the slightest. But when she remembers their moment on the roof, the gentleness in him when he wiped her tear away…that’s something Arthur would do. Not a murderer, like Joker.

But what does she know? Arthur was a murderer. He chose to kill those businessmen, he chose to kill his mother, he chose to kill Murray Franklin. Maybe he wanted Joker to come out all along. She’ll never get an answer now. She’s stuck with the clown instead.

“You still smoke?” He asks her, taking another drag.

“No, not really. I stopped after I started going to AA. But I’m sure you know I go to AA since you’ve been following me.”

He stares at her, a sudden and unreadable expression on his face so unnerving that she has to look away from him. She shouldn’t be pushing her luck with him. She’s sitting next to someone who’s killed multiple people, who orders people to kill. He doesn’t hesitate. Showering her with gifts and breaking her out of jail may seem nice, but she can’t forget who he is. Just that stare alone has paralyzed her with fear, the sinking feeling setting in that she’s ultimately stuck with him. She can’t go back to her normal life now.

“Where are we going?” She finally speaks up, still looking ahead.

“Home.”

_Home_ isn’t on the outskirts of Gotham like she initially suspected. Instead, it’s somewhere that should’ve been obvious. Despite living in a shitty neighborhood, Sophie always knew it could be worse. Worse meaning, the Narrows. The isolated island in the middle of the city, the only thing separating the two being a decaying bridge that might as be a sign saying _Welcome to Hell_.

Sophie feels her throat tighten as they cross over the bridge. You only end up in here if you have to go to Arkham State Hospital, most people who enter unlikely to get out. Joker’s the exception; he appears unfazed as he looks out the window, relaxed even. Arkham was his home for the last year, spending those long months planning his escape. Is it really surprising that he stays in the neighborhood that chooses to uplift his crimes?

The van in front of them carrying his henchmen turn left while they turn right, and they soon turn again into an alley between two buildings. The car stops and Joker gets out, walking around to open the door for her. They’re silent as he leads her through the back entrance of one of the buildings. Inside is a disaster, even dirtier than her building. Graffiti and trash line the walls as they take the stairs past the second, third, fourth floors. It’s eerily silent during the walk, as if the building is abandoned. They don’t stop until they reach the top floor.

The hallway is just as bad as the stairwell. Sophie ignores it, following him to the last door. Joker digs through his pockets, retrieving a set of keys. He unlocks the door and opens it for her, motioning her to go in first. The apartment is mostly empty but there are some things inside—a table, some chairs, a couch, a television and radio. It smells like his cigarettes. But even with the furniture and clean gut renovation, there’s something vacant about the space. Impersonal.

She stands awkwardly in the living room, eyes quickly gazing over at the curtainless windows. He goes into a separate room, walks out with a bouquet of roses seconds later.

“Well?” He says, arm outstretched to hand her the bouquet. She takes them, despite a sudden annoyance rising in her. “Welcome home.”

“This is your idea of home? An abandoned building in the middle of the Narrows?”

“It’s better than a jail cell.”

“It feels like a jail cell.”

He doesn’t say anything, staring hard at her. She doesn’t break contact, fully aware that it’s reckless to test him again but too upset to read the signs. “Why am I here? What am I supposed to do now? Stay here like a prisoner?”

“This is a five-star hotel compared to GCPD. You would still be there if it weren’t for me.”

“But you didn’t give me a choice, did you? Maybe I wanted to stay there.”

He smiles, but it’s not genuine. There’s a bitterness to his expression that’s impossible to miss. He’s getting irritated. “You and I both know that’s a lie.”

“I don’t think it is. You haven’t exactly given me a choice in any of the shit that you’ve dragged me into.”

“You chose to meet me on the roof, did you not?”

“If someone who just broke out of _Arkham State Hospital_ tells me to do something then I don’t really feel like I have a choice in the matter. Just like I didn’t choose for you to kidnap me and indirectly get me arrested in the first place!”

She’s gripping the roses so hard that she feels herself shaking. She wants to throw them in his face and tell him to go fuck himself. But part of her tells her not to. Maybe that’s the part that doesn’t want to argue with him. Or better yet, the part that still wants to stay alive. She sets them down on the couch. “I don’t have a job anymore,” she starts, her voice surprisingly soft. “I can’t go back to my old life. I have a right to be upset, don’t take that away from me.”

He doesn’t respond at first, considering his answer. Then he steps closer to her, only for her to take a step back. Sophie regrets it the moment it happens, forcing herself to stay still when he takes her face in his hands, avoiding or simply disregarding the hesitation. Even with how annoyed she just was with him, he’s still gentle with her. She doesn’t know how to process it, doesn’t have the time to try before the sound of his voice snaps her back to reality.

“I told you I was going to make Gotham mine. I wanted you to know. Now I want you to have a front seat to when it all happens.”

“You take Gotham, then what? You’re just going to sit back and enjoy the chaos and fear?”

He stares at her, their faces so close that she can feel his breath on her lips. Those green eyes of his have never been brighter, like there’s a glimmer of excitement in them at the prospect of destroying the city. “The only people who are going to be in fear are those who never had to fear a day in their lives.”

“Kill the rich.”

Joker nods in approval. Protest signs from a year ago come back to her, how angry the working class was with Thomas Wayne and those like him. They didn’t give a shit when he died. They celebrated. Sophie was conflicted then, and she still is now, instead blocking it all out.

“What about everyone in between?” She asks.

“They’ll have to make their choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun reading your comments on the last chapter... ngl the "poor Sophie" ones made me laugh because it's true but at the same time who knows what's going to happen 🙃


	9. Compromise

Joker leaves shortly after, telling Sophie to _make herself at home_. She would’ve laughed if she had the energy to. Despite his insistence that her new residence wasn’t a jail cell, she found it ironically odd that he left without giving her a key to the apartment. There’s a bedroom, a single bed occupying the space. The bathroom and kitchen are small but stocked, he thought this whole thing through. Without her input. Of course.

Sophie didn’t notice when she first came in, but behind the couch hid a stack of books. She doesn’t know how to feel. She's surrounded by these little things that are meant to remind her of home in this foreign place, but everything is all wrong. For once, she misses the distant yelling and noises of her neighbors, the silence within the building unsettling her. Does anyone else live here? How was he able to find this place? Hell, how was he able to do anything? Breaking out, rallying his followers, robbing banks. He dragged her into his world but she’s still an outsider.

She sits on the couch, hugging her knees against her chest. This isn’t what she wanted. If he just stayed locked up she wouldn’t feel the way that she does now, anticipating his presence but rejecting him when he’s finally there, feeling guilty for even wanting to be near him. Despite the circumstances, she’s taken every chance that she could to see him. She can lie to herself all she wants, but she still made the choice. Just like she chose to lie to Garrity and Burke. For him. She’s been doing everything for him.

Sophie reaches for the bouquet of roses sitting next to her, softly tracing her finger along the crimson petals of one. He seemed so happy when he handed them to her, genuinely excited as if he expected her to return the feeling. A naivety that almost reminds her of Arthur. Almost. She was too annoyed to see if it would last. Her frustration always interrupting the moment, just like when she pulled away from his caress a month before.

No, she thinks, she’s not wrong for doing that. She had every right to. This feeling of uncertainty she has, her thoughts in conflict with each other, it reminds her of how she tried convincing herself that she wasn’t crazy for wanting to know if Arthur killed those businessmen. The catalyst that set everything off. Maybe that’s the one thing Arthur and Joker have in common, their ability to gaslight her with ease. Whether or not they mean to is still unclear. Arthur, maybe not. Joker is a different story.

What does he want from her? _I guess I don’t know either._ He may have been satisfied with her lack of an answer, but she can’t say the same for his; uncertainty is one thing that she doesn’t want from him. Uncertainty means confusion, a lack of balance. Things that she’s spent months working on, attempting to rebuild. Now it's all gone. Just like that.

Sophie ends up falling asleep on the couch as opposed to the bed, her new home failing to bring her any ease or comfort. The last time she kept track of time was right before the robbery, minutes after the bank opened. When she was finally able to force herself to sleep, inklings of sunrise were already starting to peek through the window in the living room, telling her that it’ll soon be 24 hours.

Yesterday seems so far away now, she woke up with no expectations outside of a regular day. Her leftovers are still in the fridge. That new candle she wanted to light still unburned. Her bed left made as she always does before leaving for work, not wanting to come home to a messy room. Normal things that she won’t get the luxury of having anymore. At least not in her own space.

The sound of jangling keys wakes her from an already restless sleep. As she sits up, she can hear him enter the apartment and go into the kitchen, opening and closing the fridge and various cabinets before walking to the living room. He drops a duffel bag to the floor.

“You didn’t eat?”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

He gives her a curious look before shrugging, nonchalant as he takes a cigarette out and sits at the only table in the room, fiddling with the lighter a couple of times before finding a flame. Their silence towards each other is deafening. For the first time, she’s not arguing with him or asking him a question, but she doesn’t have anything to say to him. What can she say? He won’t let her go no matter how nicely she asks. She can’t help but think of Arthur, what a rambling mess he would be. She misses it, misses him. There’s suddenly a heavy feeling in her stomach, something that’s only going to get worse the longer he’s on her mind, her memories of him starting to surface in clarity. 

Luckily, he’s the one to break the awkwardness in the air and as a result, snaps her out of her thoughts. “I got you something.”

She glances over and he points to the duffel bag on the floor, similar to the ones that were used for the robbery. She gets up from the couch to take the bag, setting it down on the table next to him. He watches her as she opens it and for a second, she almost believes that he’s giving her a bag full of money and telling her to be free. Wishful thinking. The bag doesn’t have any money inside. Instead, it’s filled with clothes. Upon closer look, she notices that they’re different uniforms for a variety of jobs—mail carrier, security, technician, just to name a few. She eyes him and he raises an eyebrow in response.

“I thought about what you said. About being a prisoner. I don’t want you to feel that way.”

“So…?”

“So, you’re going to help me.”

Sophie scoots the bag away, stepping back for extra measure. “I’m not helping you rob banks.”

“Who said you were going to do that?”

“What else am I supposed to do, then? Be your cheerleader?”

“I can’t say I hate the sound of that.”

She shoots a glare at him and he smiles, painted lips expanding. Unlike yesterday, his makeup is fresh, no smudges—yet. She wonders if he gets tired of putting clown paint on every day. If he ever stares at his bare face in the mirror. Does he see Joker? Or Arthur? Does he even care?

“I can never tell what you’re thinking when you look at me like that.”

Sophie blinks. Is she really that obvious? Obvious enough for him to know when she’s lost in thought, ironically enough with him on her mind? She decides to play dumb, just to see if he goes along. “Like what?”

“Like… You want to tell me something. But at the same time, you don’t. “

“What do you think I’m thinking about?”

“I know you’re thinking about me.”

She stares in response, words lost. She didn’t expect him to be _that_ direct, giving her no way to backtrack. But he’s right, she is thinking about him. She hasn’t stopped thinking about him. Even when he was gone for a month, he was still in the back of her mind, waiting for the right moment to show up again. He never left.

“But,” he breaks the silence again. “I don’t know what you’re thinking about doing to me. Most of the time you look like you want to beat my face in.”

He starts grinning and Sophie smiles too, even if it’s small. There’s something about his reaction that’s infectious to her, reminding her of Arthur, if only for a moment.

“You’re not completely wrong.” Then the moment is gone, her smile fading away. “I’m not going to hurt people for you.”

“I won’t force you to.”

She looks at the duffel bag, one of the uniforms peeking through. She hates that she’s in this position, unable to leave, her only two options being stay in this empty apartment slowly getting cabin fever or join him on his journey to bring Gotham down. It’s not fair. But then again, she’s never had much luck so she shouldn’t be that surprised when things don’t work out for her.

“What do you want me to do?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well well.......what do you guys think he wants?!


	10. First Outing

Sophie is sitting in the passenger seat of a van with a stolen electricity company logo attached to the side. She’s in the company uniform, a light blue button-up with _Gotham Lights_ stitched above the chest. Next to her on the driver’s side is one of Joker’s henchmen, dressed in similar attire. They haven’t said a word to each other. In her hand is a walkie-talkie, given to her by Joker before he put a plastic clown mask on and headed towards the back entrance of Wayne Hall holding a machine gun.

“Eyes.” He told her before he left.

Eyes. That’s the role he gave her for this outing. There’s some kind of symbolism in the fact that the first time she joins him, they end up at the namesake of the man Arthur once thought was his father. The man who’s now dead. She’s in no mood to decipher it, and wouldn’t be able to in the state of mind that she’s in.

Her head hasn’t stopped spinning.

Wayne Hall is holding an auction tonight. A gathering of the rich, essentially. Despite Thomas’ death, his name still lives on. Gotham’s upper class preserves it through charities and balls, but it’s forever tainted in the minds of others. He was and still is an enemy of the working class. If you join Joker’s cause then you’re guaranteed to hate him.

Even before meeting Arthur, Sophie was always under the assumption that the rich in Gotham were selfish and corrupt, only caring about each other while they sold poor people lies. Thomas’ mayoral campaign certainly proved it, if there was any doubt before. He died at the worst time, no way to redeem himself in the eyes of the majority before his murder. Not that he would actually want to, given how much of an asshole he was. In a way, his selfishness and inability to sympathize with Gotham’s working-class led to his death. He shared the same thoughts as the current 1%, and that’s why Joker and his following have them in their sights for tonight.

“We’re going to let them know their place. And it’s not at the top.” That’s what he told her after he laid out the plan. Crash the party, steal the auction items, scare them, and if needed…he didn’t say, but she knew.

“And you just want me to keep watch?”

He nodded and explained that they use hijacked walkie-talkies to communicate if needed.

“If needed?” She had asked him.

“To let us know about the police, anything suspicious. You could say it's easier to rob banks than what we plan on doing tonight.”

“So why do something difficult? Just keep robbing banks.”

He smiled at her. “Where’s the fun in that?”

Fun. Fun is the last thing on her mind as she looks nervously through the windows of the van, watching for any sign of a disturbance. Police are patrolling the entrance, unaware that a gang of masked men in suits are storming through the back, likely killing any uniformed officer that they encounter. She hasn’t heard any gunshots yet, but it’s still early.

In addition to Sophie’s electrician disguise, there are other undercover followers scattered around the area, blending in with civilians who have no idea of the chaos that’s about to unfold. She wants to jump out of the van and tell them to run. But looking across the dashboard at the gun resting in the lap of the man next to her tells her otherwise. Joker gave her a gun too—just in case, he said—and she promptly put in underneath her seat. She doesn’t want to use it or even want to entertain the idea of having to. All she has to do is be on the lookout. Be the eyes.

The sudden static from the walkie-talkie causes her to jump, almost dropping it. Sophie looks over and the man rolls his eyes.

_“We’re almost there.”_ Joker’s voice. _“Any changes before we go in guns blazing?”_

“Everything’s normal.”

_“Good. For now.”_

She can hear the smile in his voice. He loves doing this, there’s no way around it. There’s a reason why the riots happened the night that he debuted as Joker, embracing the applause of the protesters who wreaked havoc in his name, who praised him for killing Murray Franklin. He smiled for them, danced for them, arms outstretched as they crowned him as their leader. That’s what he is to them. A symbol, the start of a movement that hasn’t stopped. And to think he said he couldn’t do that.

_Do I look like the kind of clown who could start a movement?_

That’s exactly what he did. And he accepted the role, quite literally, with open arms. Sophie wonders if Arthur would be happy with that. He just wanted to be seen, that’s what he told her all those months ago. He looked so defeated then, unsure of if he was ever going to amount to anything. He didn’t want to die with people stepping over him. Now Joker is the one doing the stepping, terrorizing the rich. Is that the kind of visibility he wanted? She’ll never know.

The distant sound of popping snaps her out of her thoughts. At first, she’s uncertain of the noises when they abruptly end, only for them to be confirmed as gunshots when they start again, not stopping this time. “Is that—is that you?” Sophie asks. She doesn’t realize her hands are trembling until she looks down at the walkie-talkie as she waits for a response. Every second feels like an eternity. She looks over at the henchman again, the gun previously sitting on his lap now in his hand. He’s looking out the window. The cops are already running up the steps to get inside, regular dressed civilians starting to follow. She can just make out one of them pulling a gun from their coat as they cross the street.

_“Police outside notice anything yet?”_

“They, they’re—”

Things happen quickly. The henchmen disguised as civilians start firing at the cops right before they reach the entrance. Cops who were previously in cruisers parked around the area get out, running over to the commotion and taking cover.

“Everyone’s shooting!”

No answer. A door opens, the henchman hopping out of the van to join in on the shootout. All she can do is stare ahead, watching everything unfold. She still can’t process it. Joker told her that another van would be used to load the auction items, but he didn’t say where it was located. She rolls down the window, poking her head out ever so slightly to look behind the van. She can see a few vehicles in the distance, but it’s too dark to tell if any of them look like they belong to him.

“What’s going on?” Sophie asks, trying and failing to mask the worry in her voice. She’s scared; he only told her that he wanted her to stay in the van and be his eyes. He gave her the gun as a precaution but didn’t explain anything else beyond that. He wanted her to do something, anything, to make herself feel helpful but she still feels useless, except this time she’s useless in the middle of a gunfight.

As she watches his men and the police fire at each other, a thought suddenly hits her. She’s alone. Unsupervised. No longer locked in a room without a key, her key to leave is right next to her in the form of an unlocked door handle. She opens it, considers taking the gun with her before deciding against it. And like that, she starts running. She avoids the chaos in front of Wayne Hall and instead takes a random alley.

She doesn’t have any idea of where she’s running to, she just needs to get as far away as she can. Although the popping of gunfire becomes a distant noise in the background, she can hear police sirens from every direction heading towards Wayne Hall. For a second, she feels regret, wondering if leaving was the right thing to do. Wondering if he made it out okay. What if he gets hurt waiting for her response? That’s not your fault, Sophie has to tell herself. None of this is her fault. He knew what he was getting into when he decided to up the stakes. She doesn’t stop running.

Eventually, she ends up in a familiar neighborhood. The silence surrounding her is a welcome surprise, but she’s still on high alert. She doesn’t have to read the newspaper or watch the news to know that she’s a wanted woman. Between Joker breaking her out of jail and the shootout, GCPD is tied up because of him. She can only imagine how much of a priority it is to get him arrested again, along with any of his accomplices. Including her.

The church doors are open, people walking out in pairs and talking amongst themselves. Of all places, Sophie doesn’t know why she ended up here, but something drew her towards it. A feeling of safety, perhaps. A reminder of her routine and journey to recovery, how normal things were for her before Joker came back into her life. Her AA meeting was a few days before, but some of her peers attend multiple sessions. Sophie hides in the alley by the church, watching people gradually depart.

Then she sees her. Marie. It shouldn’t surprise Sophie that she’s at another meeting this week, she’s retired and has a lot of time on her hands. And yet, Sophie can’t help to feel a sense of relief, finally seeing someone that she considers a friend. _You know I’m always a phone call away if you need to talk._ Not quite a phone call, but it’ll have to do.

“Marie,” Sophie whispers as she starts to pass by the alley. “Marie!”

Marie stops, confused. She looks back to the church, eyes searching the crowd before gazing over the alley. Then she sees her. Her puzzled expression softens, a small smile forming on her lips. “Sophie,” she starts, walking closer to her. “What are you…” Sophie can see the exact moment when Marie realizes. She’s read the papers. She’s seen the reports. Sophie wouldn’t blame her if she backed away, wouldn’t blame her if she screamed for someone to call the police.

But she doesn’t. Instead, her smile turns sympathetic, understanding.

“I need your help, Marie. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't expect this chapter to be as long as it is but sometimes you can't stop writing! Hope it makes up for having to wait a few days x


	11. Runaway

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe we're on chapter eleven now! Just like with the first story, I've really enjoyed reading everyone's comments and feedback. Thank you for the kudos and bookmarks too! It's taking me a bit longer to write this one compared to the previous, but I think it'll all pay off in the end! 😉

Marie doesn’t ask any questions. She gestures for Sophie to follow her, giving her electrician disguise nothing more than a quick glance before they start walking to her car. They say nothing to each other during the ride, but Marie turns on the radio to fill the awkwardly silent air. Classical. Sophie’s preferred station.

_The most important thing to do is avoid high-risk situations. Whatever puts you back in that mindset has to be cut out. Look for healthy, alternative methods of coping that help you relax._

Her mantra from AA, words that she’s been living by until now. Even when she tried to adapt again in Joker’s return, she’s never really been back to the place of peace that she set up for herself. He threw that all off track. As much as she tries to tell herself that it’s still possible to find some kind of calm in the madness, she knows it’ll never be the same. Joker has to remain locked up for that to happen.

Marie’s neighborhood is in the nicer part of Gotham where the middle class thrive in historic townhomes. No graffitied buildings, no excessive trash pile up, no ominous people lingering around. From the looks of it, you could walk down the street without being catcalled. If it’s this nice here, Sophie can only imagine how the richest of the rich live. She’s spent all her life in the dirty inner city of Gotham, never once thinking about how close the classes live next to each other. Why would she? She was never going to end up there.

But still, looking out the window and seeing residents walk their dogs without looking over their shoulders has her conflicted. How close everything and everyone is, separated by these invisible lines, the lower class instinctively knowing that they don’t belong in nice places like this while the middle and upper class would never be seen stepping foot in the poorest parts of the city. She suddenly feels out of place.

Marie parks her car in front of a townhouse, the deep red brick almost appearing black in the night. Flowers on each side of the concrete decorate the steps leading to the front door, a small porch with just enough space to fit a rocking chair next to it. When she opens the door, Sophie freezes, unsure of herself. Marie smiles.

“Come on in, let me make you something to drink.”

Marie’s home is just as inviting as her personality. She tells Sophie to make herself at home in the living room before going to the kitchen to heat some water for tea. “Don’t mind Harper, she’s very friendly.” Sophie starts to ask _who?_ before a soft meow directs her attention to the floor. An orange Tabby cat jumps on the couch as if inviting Sophie to sit down next to her. She complies. She’s never had any pets growing up despite wanting one, but now that’s she’s older, she doesn’t have the time.

There’s an antique aura to Marie’s space that doesn’t teeter on the edge of being dated. No floral or plaid wallpaper, instead, wooden bookshelves line the walls of the living room. No television either, Sophie notices, eyeing an unfinished book at the coffee table that has a bookmark in between its pages. She can’t imagine having so much time on her hands, the concept of retiring in the future unknown to her, now impossible given her situation.

The kettle in the kitchen starts to whistle, and soon Marie is walking out with two cups. “I told you she’s friendly.” She motions to Harper nuzzling at Sophie’s thigh before handing her a cup and sitting down in the large recliner across from her.

“Thank you, Marie.” Sophie takes a sip of tea before deciding to address the elephant in the room. “I’m sure you’re probably wondering why I asked for your help.”

“I am, and I have some ideas about what it is. But I don’t want to pressure you.”

How can someone be so kind-hearted? She’s always been in awe at how big Marie’s heart is, that warm personality what she imagines a caring mother is like. What her mother should’ve been. Sophie looks at her. Marie’s eyes are attentive but there’s a hint of worry in them, those ideas that she has in mind likely stemming from what she’s read in the paper.

“Has my name been in the news?”

Marie sighs before nodding. “It has. They’re throwing out some pretty strong accusations.”

Sophie looks down, a wave of emotion suddenly hitting her. Her name, forever tainted in the minds of people who both know and don’t know her; she tried so hard to move past it, to move past him. Now his name follows her everywhere and there’s no escape.

“I won’t ask if it’s true. I know you said you were in a bad relationship, and I could tell that it hurt to talk about. But those things that they’re saying, it doesn’t sound like you.”

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until Marie gets up to give her a box of tissues. It’s been so long since she’s just let go, no longer feeling the need to hold everything in. She hasn’t allowed herself to cry—she did it enough when she was with Arthur—and she’s been kicking herself ever since she broke down on the roof. She was embarrassed in front of him, how easily he was able to get under her skin without doing anything. But now, she can let herself mourn.

“It’s not me,” she finally says, wiping a tissue underneath her eye. “I don’t want it to be me. But he’s making it really difficult.”

“He.” Not a question, just a statement.

“Joker.”

Sophie tells Marie the truth—everything, from the beginning of her relationship with Arthur to the end when he became Joker. She had to be careful with her words during AA, avoiding anything that would tie her to what happened. The police never instructed that she do so, she felt like she needed to just to avoid the inevitable questions. But finally saying everything, her thoughts, her feelings, her conflict, an invisible weight has been lifted off her shoulders. She wasn’t even this open with the police. There’s no way they could understand the relationship she had with him had without thinking there was something wrong with her too.

Marie doesn’t say anything the entire time, taking in every word, and is still silent after Sophie’s done. Her expression isn’t judgmental, rather, curious. Looking for the right words to say.

“It sounds like you still love him. Arthur.” Sophie’s face is suddenly hot, conveniently unable to respond after spending so long talking. Luckily, Marie doesn’t wait for an answer. “It’s understandable. I think I would feel the same way as you. I’d probably make the same decisions you did, too.”

“Really?”

Marie nods. “But as you said, he’s put you in a difficult situation. An impossible one, really. I wish I could give you better advice, but I’ve never heard anything like this.” She gives her a small smile, the same sympathetic look on her face when she noticed Sophie in the alley. A look that wants to help, but ultimately doesn’t have the power to change what’s already been done.

The fact remains that she’s wanted by not only the police, but also Joker. The thought unsettles her, thinking about how angry he must be that she ran away. How determined he would be to get her back. Sophie bites her lip. She’s made a mistake.

“I shouldn’t have come here,” she starts, standing up. Harper jumps off the couch. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I put you in a dangerous situation. I—”

“Sit down, sit down.”

“But—”

“Where are you going to go if you leave?”

“I—” Sophie stops. She has nowhere to go unless she wants to walk back into the Narrows by herself. “I don’t know.”

“Stay here for the night. Don’t tell me no. I’d feel terrible if you left and something happened.”

Sophie wants to ask _but what if something happens to you because of me?_ but she forces herself not to, sinking slowly back into the couch. She’s tired, all of her adrenaline and nerves finally crashing at once. Maybe in a better state of mind, she can come up with what to do next. As if on cue, Marie sets her cup of tea down.

“Come on. I’ll show you to the guest bedroom.”


	12. Trigger Warning

The guest bedroom used to belong to Marie’s daughter. Sophie felt awkward at first, memories of her still scattered throughout the room. The walls painted pastel pink, a dresser with family photos and other trinkets on top of it, a single teddy bear comfortably sitting in the middle of the twin-sized bed. If she had custody of Gigi, she’d like to think this is how her room would look. Her throat tightens at the thought, her own child unaware of her existence, her room likely decorated the same way without any input from her real mother.

“No need to worry,” Marie says, thankfully snapping Sophie out a long-repressed thought. “Elizabeth lives in Metropolis. I’ve always thought about redecorating, but I’m sentimental.”

Harper runs past Sophie as she steps inside the room, following the cat as she settles down on the bed.

“I’ll get you a towel too, in case you want to take a shower.”

Sophie thanks Marie for what seems like the millionth time. She doesn’t know what else to say at this point, still in disbelief that she was actually able to escape. She knows it won’t last, but she’s forcing herself not to think of it. It’s difficult though, the lingering thought in the back of her head telling her that she just got lucky, that the timing was just right for this one moment. In hindsight, the move was reckless. She put herself in danger and dragged Marie into it as well. If she gets hurt, Sophie can only blame herself. Marie certainly didn’t sign up for an accomplice to a wanted criminal calling her down from a dark alley.

Marie returns some moments later with a towel and washcloth. She tells Sophie that the bathroom is down the hall before leaving, Harper jumping off the bed to leave as she closes the door. Sophie stares ahead, looking at a framed photo of roses hanging next to the door. She looks to the ceiling instead, roses are the last thing she wants to think about.

Sophie takes a shower a few minutes after Marie leaves, her first since the robbery. Her body finally has the time to relax under hot water, if only for a moment. It’s hard to think that the last time she showered, she was at home getting ready for work, unaware of what life had planned for her. What he had planned for her. She closes her eyes, as if to shut every thought clouding her mind. You’re supposed to be relaxing, she has to tell herself. Easier said than done. Luckily, the second she got into bed she dozed off from exhaustion finally catching up. She even forgot to get under the covers.

She would’ve considered it a great sleep if it wasn’t suddenly interrupted by the sound of crashing. Sophie shoots up, frantically turning her head in the dark to the source of the noise. It came from outside of the bedroom. She slides out of bed, the last remnants of sleep disappearing as she walks to the door to unlock and slowly crack it open. With one eye, she can see the steps, the warm light from the living room glimmering from below. It has to be late at this point, in the early to mid AM. Unless Marie is a night owl, which Sophie doubts, there’s no reason for her to be downstairs.

Once again, Sophie is struck with that feeling of knowing that something is going to happen. It was only expected, inevitable, given her situation. She can’t be surprised when she’s been anticipating it, the only unknown being when it’s supposed to happen. Now she has her answer.

There’s an eerie calmness that overcomes her as she steps out of the room to go downstairs. She’s imagined him reacting so many ways at her escaping, all of the scenarios involving some kind of anger. Of course he’ll be upset, she messed everything up, she ditched the mission, she put his plans in jeopardy. There’s no way he isn’t pissed.

So she can’t help but be surprised when she gets to the living room and sees Marie sitting on the couch, Joker in the recliner with his legs crossed. Marie’s expression is unreadable as she notices Sophie entering the room, but Joker…he’s smiling. Such a contrast from how she expected him to be. No, instead, there’s a genuine joy on his face like he’s glad that she finally showed up.

Sophie doesn’t know what to say. This isn’t what she expected. They’re sitting across from each other like Sophie was with Marie while they talked over tea. If it weren’t for Marie’s uneasy demeanor, Sophie would almost feel like she interrupted whatever conversation they were in the middle of. Her eyes finally tear away from Joker when she notices a broken vase on the floor next to him. He chuckles.

“I didn’t want to barge into the bedroom, so I had to get a little creative.”

“How did you find me?” She isn’t surprised that he did, but nothing else can come to mind to get her to speak. He smiles again, a knowing look on his face that tells her that he’s thinking the same thing.

“Does it matter? I’m here now. But…it’s getting late.” He looks at Marie. “Sorry for waking you up. If you weren’t such a light sleeper, this would be easier.”

Before Sophie or Marie can say anything, Joker pulls out a gun. He points it at Marie. Sophie is suddenly struck with a sick déjà vu, being unable to do anything from the security of her apartment when he pulled a gun on Murray Franklin a year before. If only she was able to break through the television and stop him before it happened.

“Don’t!” Sophie yells. She starts to move towards her, but Joker raises his other hand to stop her. “Joker, please. Marie isn’t… This isn’t her fault. Please don’t do this.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Because it’s my fault. She doesn’t deserve to suffer because of me.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you pulled this little stunt.”

She has to stop herself from stepping forward, eyes glued to the gun. She forces herself to look at him. “I—I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please.”

“I don’t believe you.” Just as he starts to pull the safety back, Sophie drops to the floor and clasps her hands together. She doesn’t dare move any closer, but she can’t think of anything else to do to convince him. Her hands are shaking, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He’s staring hard at her, those green eyes of his piercing her. She feels so small with him looking down at her, like a child pleading with a parent. There’s something unhinged about his expression, as if he’s trying to hold back. His control, his anger, she’s unable to tell. He finally moves again, this time slowly aiming the gun away from Marie. Sophie’s heart is beating so fast that she can feel it drumming against her chest with every thump. She doesn’t realize how hard Marie is breathing until she turns away from him to look at her, her hand clutching her chest. She can’t believe she’s still alive. Sophie can’t believe it, either.

Joker stands up, adjusting his suit and stepping around the broken vase. “Sorry again about that. I can send you a new one.”

“I’d rather you not.” Marie’s usually soft voice is replaced by one that’s trying to be stern and failing. Sophie feels terrible.

“Suit yourself.” He looks down at Sophie. “Let’s go.”

As he walks towards the foyer, she pulls on his pants leg to stop him. “Can I say goodbye?” He gives her a doubtful look. “Please.”

“One minute. I’m watching.”

She scrambles over to Marie, hugging her tight. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want this to happen, I—”

“I knew the risk. I just wanted you to be safe.”

“But I—I fucked everything up.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Marie gives her a weak smile.

Sophie wants to do the same, but something hits her. “Where’s Harper?” She turns to Joker. “What did you—”

He rolls his eyes, walking to the storage closet by the front door to open it. Harper rushes out, running past Joker to the living room and jumping into Marie’s lap within seconds. “I’m not a cat killer. Now let’s go. Your time is up.”

She hugs Marie again. “Don’t let him break you.” Marie whispers to Sophie as she pulls away. She can’t say anything, so she doesn’t, giving her a parting smile instead. She knows, truly, that this is the last time they’ll see each other.

Even with Marie’s kindness, Sophie can tell that she’s shaken to her core. She doesn’t get up from the couch as they leave, doesn’t pet or notice Harper despite how much she’s nuzzling against her. She stares ahead, eyes fixated on something out of sight, likely lost in thought, debating if any of this was worth it, even though he spared her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well......?! Did anyone expect that to happen?! Especially after all the theories in the last chapter! 😅


	13. Impulse

Sophie left Marie’s home undetected as she followed Joker to a discreetly parked car with one of his men waiting in the driver’s seat. Unlike Sophie’s neighborhood, everything was quiet. The perks of living in the comfortable middle class, no late-night sirens from a passing ambulance or police cruiser, no domestic disturbances, no gunshots. Not even dog barks. They slipped away and left the neighborhood in its peaceful ignorance.

The ride back to the Narrows is silent. He doesn’t look at her, doesn’t interact, lighting a cigarette instead to pass the time. His previously amused demeanor was quickly replaced with an uncomfortable silence the moment they entered the car, the relaxed personality from before revealing itself to be a front. He didn’t want to lose his cool at Marie’s, already risking so much just to get Sophie back.

She can feel the tension rising the closer they get to the apartment, all of her scenarios of him angrily lashing out coming back to her at once. No, he wasn’t going to snap in front of Marie, even though it would’ve been easy. Pulling the trigger would’ve been nothing to him, he’s done it many times before. Sophie can only imagine what kind of damage was done after she ran, how many lives were lost. She wonders if they even succeeded with the mission.

Sophie holds her breath as they cross over the bridge to enter the Narrows. She’s too nervous to look over at him, so she stares ahead and tries to act calm despite the alarm bells going off in her mind. What’s he going to do? If she were him, she doesn’t think she would trust someone who ran away. Is he going to keep her locked up for good? Punish her? Or do something worse? She’s so lost in thought that she doesn’t notice when the car finally stops, snapping out of it when Joker opens the door, leaving it ajar for her.

She hasn’t stopped staring at the back of his head. She followed him up the steps to the top floor, but he walked like she wasn’t there, sometimes taking two steps at a time. When he unlocks the door to the apartment, he leaves it open and she cautiously walks in, closing the door slowly behind her. She doesn’t move forward, back pressed against the door. He sits on the couch, the roses he gave to her next to him. From where she’s standing, she can tell that they’re starting to wither from lack of water.

Her eyes never leave him, examining his every move even as he does nothing of importance. He runs a hand through his green hair, looks down at his palm like there’s something there. Then he sighs. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

Sophie swallows, trying to find the right words. “I wasn’t.”

“What if the police were following her?”

“I—I don’t—”

“You don’t know.”

She doesn’t say anything in response.

“You got lucky. All of GCPD was a little tied up last night.” He smiles, more to himself than her, like he’s recalling the memory. He leans back on the couch to stretch, then abruptly stops to touch his shoulder. The moment was quick, but she still caught it.

“So, everything went according to plan?” She starts to walk towards the couch, stepping closer with every word.

“Aside from your stunt, yeah.” She watches as he digs in his pocket for his pack of cigarettes, eyes intent on his right shoulder. She didn’t notice at Marie’s because he’s left-handed, but his movements with the right side of his body are off.

“What are you going to do with the auction items?”

“Give everything to charity.” He says sarcastically, finding a flame. He leans back again, carefully this time.

She’s standing behind him now, eyes on his shoulder. She should think this through, but she ignores the thought, acting on impulse. He flinches when her hand touches his shoulder, another quick reaction before he’s grabbing her in an attempt to stop her. But it’s too late.

“You’re hurt.” A statement, not a question. He doesn’t say anything, staring up at her with his cigarette dangling between his lips. His hand is still on hers, holding it tightly. “Can I see?”

He doesn’t respond, but finally lets her go. She walks around the couch to sit next to him. His movements are slow taking off his red suit jacket, the discomfort on his face well-hidden but recognizable to Sophie. She gasps quietly when she sees the patch of blood soaking his patterned button-up. She’s seen him hurt so many times before—a mouthful of blood, a battered face, a battlefield of bruises, but her heart still drops every time. Even when he tries hiding it, she can still see through it.

He looks down at his shoulder and chuckles. “Huh. Look at that.”

“You got shot.”

“Just a graze.”

“And you didn’t get help?”

“Going to the hospital would be against my best interest.”

“You know what I mean.” She’s frustrated. How can he be so nonchalant about this?

“I have a medic. He’s not that great, but what can you do? He wrapped it up, said I’ll bleed if I move around too much.”

“Listen to him.”

“That’s not happening.”

She sighs. “Then let me rebandage it. You have to stop bleeding.”

He looks at her like he wants to say something. She almost wants him to. He stubs the cigarette out before standing up to go to the bedroom. Comes back out a few minutes later shirtless and holding a first aid kit. Sophie has to force herself not to look away. She feels silly; she’s seen him shirtless in the past but not like this. Not as Joker. He’s still skinny, yet, not as gaunt as before. She imagines he didn’t have much of a choice when it came to eating in Arkham, but he’ll likely lose any weight gained the longer he’s out.

He gives her a sly smile as he sits back down, and she mentally kicks herself for letting her emotions show so easily. She hates that he finds it amusing but she’s even more annoyed at herself because it only confirms her conflicting feelings about him. She pushes the thought away when he passes her the first aid kit.

Although he brushed it off as _just_ being a graze, Sophie’s face still twists in worry as she cleans the blood around the area to reveal a decent sized wound on his shoulder. “They must’ve got pretty close to you.”

“Not close enough. I returned the favor, though. Multiple times.”

“How many people died?”

“Police?” He looks to the ceiling, pondering the thought. “Dozens, maybe two.”

“Your men?”

“Enough of them.”

“…Bystanders?”

No response. She doesn’t push any further, focusing on his shoulder. She’s no expert, but she’s tended to Arthur before. Still, getting punched in the face is different than getting shot at. “You should listen to that medic of yours,” she says when she finishes rebandaging the wound. “You don’t use your right side, but you’re still injured. You could really get hurt next time.”

“Would you care?”

He’s staring at her, waiting for an answer. Sophie bites her lip. She has a feeling that he won’t accept _I don’t know_. “I wouldn’t want it to happen.”

“Because you care. Am I right?”

He’s got her frozen on the spot. “Yes.” She stops herself after saying it; she didn’t think she could admit it to him aloud, much less to herself. “I care. I felt bad after running away, but I—it was too late. I didn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened to you. Even when I didn't want to.”

He’s silent, expression unreadable. Is that the kind of answer he expected? Is he satisfied she said yes? She can’t tell. She lightly touches his bandaged shoulder. He doesn’t flinch this time. “Do you blame me for this?”

“Why would I blame you? Shit happens. I would’ve got shot at even if you didn’t run away.”

“Are you mad at me for running?”

“I want to be. I should be. But…” He trails off.

“But what?” She’s leaning closer to him, eyes searching his.

“It’s hard for me to stay mad at you for long.”

They’ve been this close before, faces almost touching, but the energy between them was different. There was an unease, an uncertainty that she felt towards him. She finds herself unable to pull away now, longing for that feeling she experienced on the roof. She’s accepted that Arthur is gone, her remaining moments with him just memories, but this moment with Joker is something new. She feels something new.

Sophie doesn’t know who makes the move first. Maybe they both did as they inched closer on the couch, their lips suddenly pressed against each other without a second thought. She never thought she would experience this kind of intimacy again, even if it’s just a kiss. A kiss driven by impulse, this primal need to make sense of her internal conflict.

A moan escapes her lips when he grabs the back of her neck to deepen the kiss. That little sound, it says so much. It leaves her lightheaded. It brings her back to reality. It scares her. She’s the one to break away, turning her head from him. She stares at the wall, looking for anything else to focus on when she feels his mouth on her neck. She has to bite her lip to stop herself, another moan threatening to slip.

“We should stop,” Her voice is a frantic whisper. She doesn’t believe herself when she says it. She doubts that he believes her either, but he pulls away, his expression once again hard to decipher. She wants him to say something to her, anything. What is he thinking? He responds by leaving the living room, heading to the bedroom. The bathroom door slams shut.

Sophie closes her eyes. Her fingers lightly touch her lips as if to confirm it actually happened, the feeling of his lips on hers still fresh, a tingling sensation that refuses to disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know everyone.....EVERYONE!!!....has been waiting for this moment to happen again! Even me! 😩


	14. Intimacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I want to say I’m SO sorry for the long delay. I had some personal issues to deal with then I got a really bad case of writer’s block! :( I didn’t want to force myself to write because it wouldn’t be good quality so I decided to wait it out and as you can see, it took a long time! I hope this chapter makes up for having to wait!

Sophie feels terrible. She knows exactly why, but confronting the truth has always been hard for her. She’s been faced with several truths in the last few days, realizations that she’s tried to avoid. Until now.

_I care. I felt bad after running away, but I—it was too late. I didn’t stop thinking about what could’ve happened to you. Even when I didn’t want to._

She cares about him. He’s a criminal and a murderer, she should want him locked up, but she doesn’t. The moment she heard about his escape from Arkham left her frantic and yet seeing that first rose at her door only solidified long-repressed memories. If she didn’t care, if she never cared, she would’ve ignored it. There’s always been a part of her that holds a soft spot for him, even knowing that he isn’t Arthur. Maybe Joker tried repressing Arthur’s memories too and it didn’t work, now they’re both stuck with these feelings that ultimately led to the kiss.

Or that’s what she thinks.

It’s hard for her to make sense of anything regarding Joker. It was already difficult trying to get Arthur to open up; Joker is a completely different challenge that she still hasn’t mastered. She’s unsure if she ever will. She can just hardly hear the vague sounds of shower water running. He left so abruptly, likely frustrated that she suggested they stop. Since she’s being honest with herself now, she can’t say she blames him. She’s frustrated at herself, too. She doesn’t know why she said anything, and if the sensation of his lips on her skin is any indication, it’s that she didn’t want it to end.

“Fuck,” she mumbles softly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

She paces around for the next few minutes, occasionally stopping to look out the only window in the living room. Any complaints she ever had about her neighborhood are irrelevant compared to being in the Narrows. Even from the top floor, she can spot the decay. She doesn’t think she’ll get used to being here. Her eyes keep glancing back to the bedroom, all of her distractions ineffective. Just go in there, she tells herself. Just talk to him.

The bathroom door opens right as she walks in. She thought the sight of him shirtless again would leave her speechless but seeing his bare face for the first time in over a year literally stops her in her tracks. She’s gotten so used to the clown makeup, it’s a part of him now. Her hand finds the door frame, holding onto it as if she’ll fall if she tries moving.

“Is it hard seeing me like this?” He asks her.

All she can do is nod. Saying that it’s hard would be an understatement. She sees Arthur, she hears Arthur, the man standing in front of her should be Arthur but he’s not. At least with the makeup, it was easier to suspend her disbelief. But now, seeing the confident mannerisms of Joker on someone who she’s always viewed as awkward and timid has her looking away. She didn’t anticipate this.

“I’m sorry,” she starts. “Just give me a minute.”

He sits at the edge of the bed, lighting a cigarette. Sophie watches him, finally finding it in herself to move so she can sit next to him. “Mind sharing?”

“I thought you said you quit.” He passes it to her.

“I might take it up again.” She takes a long drag, closing her eyes. “You’re bad for me.”

If it were a year ago, she’d be drinking. A cigarette isn’t any better, but it’s the lesser of two evils. And to be fair, she hasn’t smoked in months. When she opens her eyes, she notices him looking at her intently, a thoughtful expression on his face. She doesn’t say anything, silently returning the stare.

“Red suits you.”

It takes a minute for Sophie to realize that he’s referring to the red paint on her mouth, courtesy of him. She touches her lips, almost dropping the cigarette. He takes it instead, smirking as he stubs it out in an ashtray on the floor. She starts to stand, ready to go to the bathroom, but he stops her.

“It’s not bad. Promise.”

She eyes him doubtfully, but sits back down, debating her next words. The elephant in the room. “I can still feel your lips on mine.” She says ruefully, looking at her hands.

“Do you want to kiss me again?”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I didn’t ask you if it was a good idea,” he leans in, his face close to hers. Sophie can just hardly keep her focus on her hands, his presence overbearing. “Answer me.”

She finally turns to face him. “You already know what I—”

His lips are on hers, cutting her off. She starts to say something but stops herself, the only thing on her mind being how good it feels to kiss him again. Those minutes apart felt like an eternity, that tingling sensation still remaining, waiting for the moment when they could be close again. The rational side of her can yell all she wants, but Sophie can’t find it in herself to listen. Can’t find it in herself to stop. Even knowing it’s a bad idea, that being this intimate with him complicates things, but she’s already on an uncontrollable spiral so she might as well embrace her wants, no matter the consequences.

They don’t break away even when she moves to his lap, hips already grinding against his. Her hands run through his hair, fingers tangling around the damp strands. There’s an unspoken dialogue between them, just knowing what needs to be done next, wasting no time to ask. His hand tugs at her pants, so she stands up to unzip them, body awkwardly maneuvering a way to shrug out of them while still kissing him. She stumbles a bit and she swears she can feel him smiling against her lips. She finally breaks the kiss to take his pants off, his eyes never leaving hers. He pulls her back on his lap.

“You’re not going to tell me to stop again.” It should’ve been a question, but he says it like a statement. A demand, almost.

“No,” Sophie shakes her head for emphasis, straddling him. Just the feeling of how hard he is underneath her nearly makes her lose her train of thought. “I’m not.”

He grabs the back of her neck, watching her expression as he slides into her. He’s slow at first, as if he wants to savor the moment. A part of Sophie feels the same, to just stay in this moment with him forever. His unpainted face reminds her of how Arthur would like that. She almost wants it, too. But that urge quickly comes back, that lust. A primal need. She doesn’t need to say anything for him to know, to confirm that he feels the same way. Her fingers find his hair again, her grip getting tighter as his slow thrusts become erratic, sharp, hard.

This pent-up frustration, how it’s been bubbling in her from the second she saw him on the roof. Being with him now, finally giving in, she’s surprised at how she was able to control herself before. She pulls harder on his hair, making him look at her. The words are on her lips but she doesn’t say them; he knows her body well enough at this point to recognize when she’s close. She lets her head fall when his lips find her neck, memories coming back to her of how often he bit the skin there.

Sophie can feel him moaning against her neck when it finally hits, a low rumble against her skin that turns into a grunt, then a sigh. Their heavy breathing fills the air and Sophie closes her eyes, trying to compose herself. In her post-orgasm haze, she remembers the last time they had sex. That dirty alley behind her old job. It was so long ago, but she can recall every moment, especially the finality of it all. She was so convinced that she’d never see him again, that he was giving her one last fuck as a goodbye. Sophie wonders if he felt the same kind of regret that she did when it was over, the same kind of embarrassment.

“Do you remember when we did this in the alley?” She asks, her voice small.

“What about it?”

“Did you really think that was going to be the last time?” She looks at him, fingers still in his hair. She runs her hand through it, waiting for his response.

“At the time, yeah.”

“You didn’t…regret how it happened? Is that how you wanted me to remember you?”

He smiles at the question, staring up at the ceiling. Her words hang the air for a long moment before he sighs. “I guess I wasn’t thinking. I just remember wanting you.”

She looks away and that makes him look at her. Sophie doesn’t say anything, reconsidering if it was a good idea to bring up the past like this.

“I can’t be him for you.” His words take her off guard—she wasn’t expecting that kind of answer from him, didn’t think she’d ever hear him say something like that. Despite already knowing, his words make it final.

“I don’t want you to be.”

“Look at me.” He uses a finger to turn her face towards him. Those green eyes. She’s looked into them so many times, and so many times she’s wondered what’s going through his head. “Are you regretting this?”

Her hand trails to his face, focus intent on him. _I can’t be him for you._ He’s right. She can’t waste her time trying to pull Arthur back, no matter how much his bare face reminds her of him. He’s not him. Sophie has to deal with who she has in front of her. And she can finally start to admit to herself that her feelings for Joker have intensified.

“I don’t regret it.”


	15. Hierarchy

Sophie doesn’t remember falling asleep. When she wakes up she’s staring at his bandaged arm, the blood-soaked fabric slid down, revealing the top of his wound. She reaches out, fingers lightly grazing the area of dried blood. “Does it still hurt?” She’s unsure if he’s sleeping, her question lingering in the air for a delayed amount of time that makes her think that he is. But he finally sighs in response.

“I’ll live.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

His head turns to face her and she looks up at him, her hand moving to push his hair back so she can look him in the eyes. “A little bit.”

“I can bandage it again for you.” She starts to get up but he stops her.

“Don’t move. I like you next to me.”

Sophie has to hide her smile at the response, his bluntness taking her off guard. “I like you next to me, too.”

“Oh, now you do?” He turns over briefly, digging through his discarded pants on the floor for a cigarette before sitting up against the headboard. “Interesting development.”

“I can take it back.”

“And bruise my ego? Please don’t.” He smiles.

As he offers her a drag, Sophie can’t help but enjoy this sense of normalcy she’s sharing with him. It’s something she would’ve never expected with everything that’s happened. The robbery, kidnapping her, breaking her out of jail, the shootout at the auction. But then again, she never thought she would end up kissing him, much less having sex with him.

“What are you thinking about?”

She hands the cigarette back to him as she considers her answer, eyes wandering around the near-empty room.

“I can’t stay in here whenever you’re gone. I’ll go crazy.”

“Crazy, huh?” He chuckles. “I don’t want you to go crazy. But, you betrayed me. You have to earn my trust again.”

There’s something about his change in tone that sounds almost patronizing. The kind of confidence that teeters on the edge of cockiness, arrogance. Something she would imagine from a crime boss. But isn’t that what he essentially is? She loses her train of thought when she feels his hand on her skin, softly caressing her cheek. Sophie meets his curious gaze, waiting for her answer.

“Well, give me something to do in here. Anything’s better than staring at the wall.” She pauses. “Let me be your secretary—or, do you have someone who handles finances?”

“I do, but he much rather shoot someone.”

“See? I don’t want to shoot anyone. We could switch.”

Sophie doesn’t notice that his free hand is trailing down her thigh until she feels a slight pinch. She would’ve believed it was in her head if she didn’t catch a hint of a smirk on his lips. She sits up, straddling him in a way that reminds of the events leading to what happened last night. But she keeps her focus, daring not to smile back.

“Did you hear a word I said?”

“Of course. You want to compromise.”

“You can keep me locked up in here like you were already going to do. I don’t have to go anywhere. Just give this to me.”

“You’re very convincing,” he says, taking a drag. Sophie takes the cigarette, dropping it in the ashtray. Probably not a good idea, she thinks too late, but it’s already been done. Joker stares at her, his expression unreadable much to her lack of surprise. Still, she leans closer to him so their noses are nearly touching.

“Deal?”

He answers her with a kiss, one hand grabbing the back of her neck while the other grips her waist. It doesn’t take long for her to feel him growing hard underneath her, a moan escaping his lips when she starts to grind against him.

Then there’s a knock on the door.

“Fuck.” Joker groans, Sophie moving off of him as he gets out of bed to pull his pants up. She can hear the sounds of him opening the front door, a muffled voice speaking quickly to him.

“When?” He asks, and Sophie slides out of bed to put her own clothes on. She debates leaving the bedroom but decides against it; that tone of voice returns, the sound of someone who’s in charge. A leader. It’s back to business as usual. She can’t help but wonder how she’s supposed to fit in his grand plan—even before she asked, did he really expect her to just sit around waiting for him? A front seat to when it all happens, that’s what he told her. She doesn’t want anything to do with it, but she doesn’t want to feel useless.

The front door slams shut. She pokes her head out, making sure that he’s the only one in the apartment. He is. She leans against the doorframe, watching him. “You have to go?”

“Duty calls.” He smiles, brushing by her to go to the bathroom.

Some minutes later, he emerges from the bedroom with a painted face and green hair. He’s buttoning up his yellow vest, that same bloodied shirt underneath it.

“Maybe you need a dry cleaner too.”

“You volunteering?” He starts to put his suit jacket on but Sophie helps him, careful to avoid his arm.

“If you get me a sewing kit, I can at least try to fix that hole in your shirt.” She starts to take a step back, but he grabs her hand. With the makeup, his eyes pop out more. There’s an expressiveness to them that she can’t fully read. But part of her is thinking that he doesn’t really want to go. “I’m serious about what I said before. Let me help you.”

“I’ll have one of my boys come by. Get you set up in here.” He turns to leave, then stops himself. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

Sophie passes the time pacing around the apartment and half-heartedly eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich before eventually settling on the couch to read a book that she picked from the pile on the floor. She chose _Pride and Prejudice_ at random, one of those classics that she never got around to when she took up the hobby.

Whatever distraction she had at first disappears as she thumbs through the worn pages. It’s felt like ages since she last read a book, her routine of reading on the train ride to work nearly a distant memory. A pang of defeat goes through her as she remembers that she never got around to finishing that science fiction novel she started. She’ll have to ask Joker to get—steal—her another copy.

As promised, one of Joker’s henchmen knocks on the door a few hours later. When Sophie opens the door, she’s looking at a surprisingly fresh-faced man holding a large cardboard box. She assumes he’s around her age, maybe younger. Not the type she would expect to join a class rebellion.

“You can just set it on the table in there,” she points in the direction of the living room.

“Boss said he’ll bring the money later.”

Sophie nods, walking him back to the door. As she opens it for him, he pauses for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?” She says slowly, not fully sure why she agreed.

“How is it—being his girlfriend?”

“We—I’m not—”

Despite not being able to see herself in the mirror, she knows that she’s as red as a tomato. His expression instantly turns sympathetic, embarrassed even. “I’m sorry. The guys dared me to. Please don’t tell boss.”

Sophie isn’t the type but even if she were, his shift in demeanor would stop her from even considering it. He looks as if he doesn’t want to disappoint him. But there’s a timidness that almost makes her think that he’s scared of what would happen if he did. He’s definitely younger, she concludes. An errand boy caught up in this idea of screwing over the rich, unaware of how deep the consequences can get. That one of the consequences can be his life.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He visibly relaxes and she gives him a little smile. “Thanks for the stuff.”

He leaves, and she listens to his footsteps echoing down the empty hallway before focusing her attention on the box. She can’t do much without money, but she can at least start to set up. Nostalgia rushes through her as she looks through unorganized folders and binders, all of the items reminding her of when she used to work at the bank.

For a brief, normal moment she wonders how her coworkers are doing. Then the reality sinks in. She’s a traitor in their eyes, essentially a terrorist. The reason their manager was killed, along with two other innocent lives. She doesn’t need to hear it from anyone to know that they hate her. Them, along with the rest of the city. Her name is beyond repair now, all she’ll be known as is his accomplice. His girlfriend.

She closes her eyes, trying to focus her attention on something other than her guilt. The second it takes over, that internal conflict will come back. She doesn’t want to deal with that right now, or ever again. But it’s hard. She can never lose herself with him for too long before something reminds her of her past life, of how simple things were when he was locked up. She tells herself to remember just a few hours ago, lying in bed with him. Sharing a cigarette.

That can be a new normal, she thinks. At that moment, it was. She can talk with him, banter and joke. She doesn’t have to feel guilty for being with him. She can try to make something of herself in this situation. His parting words come back to her.

_Let me know if you need anything else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all are staying safe! ❤️


	16. Management

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !! NEW CHAPTER !! FINALLY !!

The last month went by in a blur. Sophie settled into her new role as accountant for Joker relatively easy, all things considered. He returned that night with suitcases and bags full of cash, that mischievous smirk on his face widening when she asked him how much money he thought he had.

“Last guy didn’t count.”

“You better help me with this.”

They spent that night organizing every bill on the living room floor. The amount of money didn’t hit her until she calculated the cost: $1.2 million.

“What are you going to do with all of this?”

He shrugged nonchalantly as he lit a cigarette.

If Sophie had that much money, she would get out of the city. Or at least move as far away as possible from her old neighborhood. Joker’s throne was in the deepest part of the Narrows, the dark heart of Gotham. He didn’t seem to mind, content with his surroundings. Arthur was never the type to obsess over cash despite hardly having any. Joker shared the sentiment too, one of the few things they had in common. Aside from the involvement with Sophie.

“I can keep track of this, but if you don’t do anything with it, then…”

“What do you want me to do with it?”

Her surprised expression made him laugh. “Why are you asking me? I didn’t steal the money.”

“You might come up with something else.”

He patiently waited for her answer between several drags.

“Maybe you should just…give it to the city.” His eyes narrowed at her response and she looked down. “They like you because you speak for them, right? You didn’t think you had a message, but you did. So many people follow you, the rich are scared. They know how powerful you are. I know you want to bring Gotham down, but maybe there’s a way to give back while doing it.”

She didn’t anticipate her answer being so long-winded, but that was how she interpreted his movement. He gave a voice to the less fortunate, to those silenced by Gotham’s upper class. Any and every kind of person with a vendetta against the wealthy joined him, even if they were young and naïve types. Joker simply had this influence over them. She wondered what it was like to have that much power. How did he manage it all?

“I knew you’d have a better idea.”

Before she could respond, his lips were on hers, pulling her down to the floor. Maybe an impulsive decision in hindsight, considering when they finished having sex the neat stacks of money they worked on for hours was scattered about and Sophie’s face was yet again smeared with clown makeup.

“You’ve got to stop kissing me when you’re wearing that stuff.”

“I think it suits you. Maybe you should give it a try sometime.”

The distant sound of sirens going off outside snaps Sophie out of her thoughts. It’s one of those days—she can’t bring herself to focus on anything, so her mind has been distracted for hours. Luckily, there isn’t much to worry about. She leans back in her chair, careful to avoid any paperwork as she props her feet on the desk.

She didn’t ask for it, but Joker randomly showed up with two of his men hauling in a large wooden desk, one of those ancient looking things you’d expect to find in a mayor’s office. He was all grins when he caught sight of Sophie sitting at the kitchen table, unable to hide the confusion on her face.

“I thought this might help with work. Put you in the right mindset.”

He was right. She feels more professional now than she did when she was at the bank. Despite being in the living room, she has her own space that isn’t separated by bars or next to coworkers. Over the last few weeks, each drawer has gradually filled up with folders documenting Joker’s expenses. Most of the spending goes toward weapons, but there’s always a decent amount left over. Joker is far from the extravagant type—she had to convince him to buy more shirts—so his stolen money often sits untouched after distributing funds among his men.

Ever since he said he had something in mind after her suggestion a month before, she’s been waiting for the moment to hear the details of this mysterious plan. She doesn’t pester him, but the question always lingers unspoken after asking him how his day was.

Her eyes wander around the room before stopping on the vase full of roses sitting at the edge of her desk. She can’t help but smile whenever she catches sight of them—he gets her a fresh bouquet every Monday. It’s strange to think that she used to reject them, but now she anticipates starting her week with seeing them. A much-needed boost of positivity before delving into the uninteresting world of financing.

She reaches for the vase, pulling one rose out, careful not to get any water on the stack of papers. With all of his connections in the city, it isn’t hard to believe that he has one who supplies him with a weekly bouquet of flowers. Still, the thought is amusing to her, this feared yet respected leader getting something as simple as roses for his girl.

His girl.

Sophie bites her lip, putting the rose back in the vase. _Joker’s girlfriend_ has been on her mind since the day that henchmen brought it up. Billy. He’s a nice kid. He thanks her every time he sees her for not saying anything. She doesn’t have any hard feelings against him; he was only addressing the elephant in the room.

His men don’t interact with her often, but they’re always civil when they do. Even when he isn’t in the room, they treat her as if he is. As if any wrong move they make will inevitably reach him through her. Sophie tries to be friendly in her short time with them in an attempt to break the ice, but they rarely go along, too afraid to make a potential mistake. Billy is one of the only ones who do, but even then, she can still sense his nervousness.

There’s a power imbalance that makes her uneasy. She doesn’t like to think of herself as anyone important, she’s essentially a bystander compared to what his men do, but it’s undeniable that she’s more than that in the grand scheme of things. If she wanted to, she could wreak havoc alongside him—the newspapers would certainly have a field day with that—but she doesn’t enjoy the spotlight like he does.

The familiar rattling of keys outside of the front door causes her to look up. Joker walks in with a confident stride; something good must have happened. He turns to her with a grin and Sophie smiles back. Rarely does he come home annoyed. There are drawbacks every once in a while, but if the news is any indication of progress, Joker and his followers are winning the war against the GCPD, right down to social influence.

No one says anything. His connection to the working class is too strong and the rich won’t dare to open their mouths. They’d rather keep silent instead of helping the police, even with the promise of protection. Joker has eyes and ears everywhere. It’d be impossible to hide from him.

“You look happy.” She says as he approaches her, bending down to kiss her. His lips linger on hers longer than usual and she pulls away to look at him curiously.

“We’re going to do something big tonight.”

“Oh?”

“That suggestion of yours… Now is the time. It’s perfect, actually.”

Sophie sits up. “You’re going to give back to the community?”

He nods, his eyes bright with excitement. Something about the look is telling her that his plan isn’t as straightforward as hers. “How…exactly are you going to do it?”

His smile widens. Sophie starts to look away, but he grabs her face, refusing to let her gaze focus elsewhere. His touch is gentle, fingers softly grazing her lips. “We’re going to throw it out on the streets. Simple.”

“You know GCPD will chase you if you do that.”

“I know.”

“Joker—”

“What’s wrong?”

“That’s not what I had in mind when I suggested it. I was thinking, maybe, mailing it to people or something.”

His grin breaks out into a laugh and suddenly she feels small. He has a way of making her comments feel insignificant even when he’s not trying. A trait he developed since taking this position as leader, she has no doubt that he does the same thing with his henchmen when they say something stupid.

“Hey,” he says, catching her change in expression. “We’re still going to give money away like you want. GCPD won’t be able to stop us once we start.”

“You keep rubbing salt in the wound, they’re going to get even more pissed.”

Sophie is usually neutral on most of Joker’s activities because she’s not involved, but they always find themselves butting heads when it comes to the police. They hate him. She knows they want to kill him and sweep it under the rug as self-defense. Hell, even he knows. The longer he’s on the streets, the worse things look for them. It should be enough that they’re a laughing stock at this point, but Joker can’t stop making a fool out of them. He has to win every battle he starts.

“Let them be pissed. All they have are a bunch of rich assholes who won’t dare step foot outside of their homes. The streets belong to us.”

“They belong to you.”

“Us.”

“Okay, fine. Us. When do you plan on doing it?”

He steps back, running a hand through his hair. He walks to the single window in the living room, eyes focused on something in the distance. Sophie considers asking the question again, but then he turns to face her.

“Tonight. And I’m taking you with me.”


	17. Another Way of Caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After much debate with myself, I've decided that this is going to be the last chapter! It's pretty long, so I hope that makes up for having to wait and I'll have some notes at the end. Enjoy!

“Me? Why am I going?”

Sophie stares at him with a dumbfounded expression, genuinely confused. There’s an unspoken rule between them that she can’t leave the apartment. She doesn’t even have a key. But if she did, it’s not like she’d have somewhere to go, or anyone to go to. Joker is the only person she has left in Gotham, everyone else cut off to avoid loose ends.

In the beginning, she thought cabin fever would be unavoidable. But he gives her whatever she asks for in order to make the space feel more personal. After the desk, she suggested a bookshelf and he had his men delivering it for her the next day. She’s moved onto home décor like candles and paintings, those little things that she used to decorate her old apartment with. It almost feels like a home, even if she never leaves. Well, until now.

“Because you came up with the idea. You really think I wouldn’t let you join in on the fun?”

“But the last time—”

“We’re not going to have a repeat of the last time.” The finality of his tone made her freeze. She doesn’t know why she brought it up, but it was the first thing that came to mind. That last outing was supposed to be “fun” too, until she ran away and put Marie’s life on the line. With how disastrous things could’ve ended up, she’s surprised that he even wants her to come along.

“You’re not going to do that again. Are you?”

Sophie shakes her head. “I was just…you know I don’t do well out there.”

“I’ll be with you the entire time. No need to worry.” He smiles, the seriousness in his voice disappearing.

“You said tonight,” her eyes shift to the window.

“Late. You may want to get some rest. I’ll start going through the money.”

“How much are you thinking?”

He shrugs, nonchalant. “Half.”

“Really?”

“I’m feeling generous.”

That same flick of excitement flashes in his eyes and Sophie is certain that he isn’t telling her everything. But she raises her hands in resignation, she doesn’t feel like prying it out of him, doesn’t have the energy to. A nap suddenly sounds incredibly appealing to her and she stands from her desk to go to the bedroom. “Wake me up if I oversleep.”

The light from the bathroom wakes her up. The door is cracked, a single ray shining right in front of her eyes. She sits up. The bedroom is pitch dark except for that small slither that managed to reach her face. Sliding out of bed, she notices how quiet everything is. Being in the Narrows, it’s not unusual to hear sirens or gunshots going off in the distance. Her old neighborhood left her immune to it. The silence is always welcoming, but she can’t help the feeling of unease that creeps up her spine as she walks to the bathroom.

The first thing she sees is the sink, stained with red and blue and green. Sophie cracks the door open more so she can lean against the frame. He smiles at her through the mirror as he reapplies fresh clown paint.

“I told you to wake me up.”

“You’re fine.”

“What time is it?”

“Past midnight.”

“You sure anyone’s going to be out that late?”

“Downtown never sleeps. You know that.”

He gives her a look and she breaks contact. Of course she knows, she spent years working there. That part of her life seems so far away now, it’s almost hard to believe it actually happened. She went through those days in resigned defeat, accepting that the most she would ever get out of life would be high tips from drunk businessmen and the drink she promised herself the moment she got home. After he was arrested, she only wanted to drink. It was a dark time, and looking back, she’s surprised that she survived. It would’ve been so easy to let go for good, to just embrace death.

“What are you thinking about?”

Sophie looks at him again, instantly paralyzed by his stare. She doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to the fact that his eyes look even more piercing with the makeup on.

She shakes her head after a delayed moment. “Nothing important.”

He sets the brush down, not saying anything. Then he turns to face her, hand caressing her jaw. She closes her eyes when she feels his lips on hers, that familiar scent of cigarettes and paint clouding her thoughts. “You don’t want to mess up your face,” she says, breaking the kiss. “And I’d like to avoid getting it all over me.”

“I don’t care.” He kisses her again. “You’d really look good with it, though.”

“I really wouldn’t. That’s your thing, your symbol. I’m nobody.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“Not to me.” His finger runs across her lips. “I’m obsessed with you, Sophie.”

She doesn’t know how to respond. It’s obvious, still, hearing him actually say it is different. She thinks a lot about the power he holds over others, but rarely about the power she has over him. She’s the only one who’s ever seen this side of him because she knew who he was before this. She doesn’t mind where she is, but maybe she’s been underestimating her role this entire time, being more than simply Joker’s girlfriend. She could be something more. Someone more.

A car is waiting in the alley of their building when they head downstairs. “Boss,” the driver holds the door open for them. He looks at Sophie and nods.

“How are we looking tonight?” Joker asks him as he starts to back out of the alley.

“Everyone’s in place. Just waiting for your word.”

“We’ll be there in five.” Joker leans back with a sigh. “Anything on the cops?”

“On their usual routes.”

Sophie looks out the window as they cross over the bridge to enter downtown Gotham. She’s gotten so used to her standard view of rooftops against the skyline that seeing everything up close again is almost jarring. Downtown’s main street is still bustling in the late hours, just like he said it would be. Homeless with their makeshift tent homes, hookers in high heels eyeing every car that slowly passes by them, drunken businessmen parading the streets. Sophie didn’t miss seeing any of this. The rich can try as much as they want to distance themselves, but this is what Gotham is and always has been. No amount of galas or charity balls can change that.

“They’re gonna be on us fast when we start.”

“As expected.” Joker mumbles as the driver parks in front of a theater. “Open the roof. Let them know we’re ready.”

Sophie watches as the driver relays the message through a walkie-talkie. The sunroof of the car slides open and Joker stands. She looks up at him. “What are you doing?”

“Come on. The view is nice.” He reaches his hand out for her and she takes it, steadying herself as she stands next to him, the opening of the sunroof just big enough to fit both of them. Sophie feels exposed until she realizes that no one is paying attention to them. Everyone is too wrapped up in their own lives to notice, much like she was when she used to work downtown. Keeping to yourself was a way of life. At least for some.

Sophie catches sight of a young face staring wide at them. A kid working the box office of the theater. He doesn’t move, eyes undoubtedly focused on Joker. He grins in response, then looks down into the car. “Give them to us.”

The driver reaches across to the passenger seat to hand Joker two trash bags. He gives Sophie one, tells her to open it. Thousands of dollars stare back at her. Not what she had in mind when she said she wanted him to give back to the community, but at least it’s something. She hopes.

“Hold on tight to that unless you want it all flying out at once.” Before she could ask when, the car starts down the main street without warning. Sophie holds onto Joker in response, gripping the trash bag in a tight fist. He laughs.

Sophie doesn’t let go of him, even when he digs in his bag and starts throwing dollars out. People slowly start to notice, snapping out of their bubble at the sight of money flying in the air. Looking back, she notices two cars behind them doing the same. She can just make out glimpses of clown masks.

“Deciding to keep it all for yourself instead?” He asks her and she looks down at the death grip she still has on the bag. Carefully, she lets go of Joker to open it, reaching in to take a few dollars out. They fly from her fingers with ease. She turns to see people along the sidewalk running towards them, cars that were previously driving down the street stopping and honking their horns to avoid hitting anyone. They don’t pay attention, careless even, as they chase ahead.

“Fuck the rich!” The voice comes from behind Sophie. She turns to see one of Joker’s men in the car behind them, throwing out money and shouting.

His yells turn into chants as others join him. She’s never seen it happen so fast, their willingness to drop everything to be a part of whatever this was turning out to be. The sound of honking horns become louder as traffic is completely held up by people roaming the streets. Some watch from the sidewalk, others run inside to avoid getting caught up in the chase. She swears she can already hear the vague sounds of a police siren going off in the distance. Joker wraps his arm around her shoulder, laughing. “Isn’t it wonderful?”

“How’d you know this would happen?”

“Progress.”

She studies him as he stares ahead, that smile never leaving his lips. He loves this, riling the crowd up, undermining the police, creating disruption. The chaos of it all. _I want you to have a front seat to when it all happens._ For the first time, those exact words ring true. That siren becomes louder and she realizes that it wasn’t in her head. “Joker, the cops—”

“Hit it!”

He pulls her back into the car as it starts to rush down the street. Sophie looks out the backseat window, his henchman’s cars following them, glimpses of red and blue lights closely behind.

“What are we going to do?” She asks.

He doesn’t answer her, instead leaning forward to talk in his driver’s ear. Sophie holds onto the door handle as the car makes a sharp turn, gripping it so tightly that she’s surprised it didn’t snap. Joker jumps over to take the passenger seat. “Put your seatbelt on.” His voice is calm, unnatural for the situation. But Sophie follows his instructions, unable to wrap her head around how quickly everything is moving.

She attempts to make sense of what he’s saying to the driver, but it’s hard for her to focus. He’s speaking into the walkie-talkie, the voice on the other end loud and full of static. _Bank_ … _divert_ … _northeast._ Her mind is racing, trying to put the fragments together. Then it hits her. “Are you targeting another bank?”

He chuckles. “What makes you think that?”

Before she can answer, the car is taking another turn and she holds onto the seat. Looking behind her again, she notices that the other cars are gone, along with the flashing lights. She can still hear sirens but it’s distant now. They’re seemingly in the clear.

The car continues to take back alleys through the city and Sophie notices that they’re in the northeastern section of Gotham. There’s a Gotham Savings Bank in the same location. She wants to ask him again, but she has a feeling he won’t answer. He’s too preoccupied, focused. There’s an operation going on in the midst of it all.

_“Eagle still not answering.”_

“We’re approaching. Take the rest to the hideout. We’ll keep you updated.”

A single police car is parked in front of the bank, the front doors and trunk open. The driver opens his door, gun already out. Sophie instinctively sits up to watch, but Joker stops her. Right when he does, a shot fires and there’s a thump. “Hide. Now!”

Sophie dunks behind the seat, her ears ringing. She doesn’t know if the driver fired the shot or not, but someone’s down. As if on cue, a voice calls out. “Police! Out of the car!”

Not the driver’s voice.

“Joker—”

“Stay where you are. Don’t get out.” He cuts her off before opening the door.

“Hands up! You—holy shit. It’s you.”

“I don’t think we’ve met before.”

A laugh from Joker quickly turns into a groan as he drops to the ground. “You piece of shit.”

“I’ve been told—”

Another groan. “Shut the fuck up. You think you’re so smart.” Footsteps approach the car and Sophie covers her mouth.

“You shot my only guy,” Joker croaks. “It’s just you and me.”

“My lucky day. It’s not every day I meet the piece of shit who’s been killing my friends.”

“You have friends?”

Sophie jumps when she hears another hit and groan. Only this time, he doesn’t stop. She can hear Joker laughing in between grunts. Maybe her mind is playing tricks on her, but it almost sounds like Arthur. _I have to do something_ , she thinks, but she doesn’t know what. Slowly, carefully, she opens the door. She crawls out of the car, unsure of where to go. The driver is just ahead, a gun next to his lifeless body.

Without thinking, she inches towards it. It’s a blessing and a curse that the officer is so focused on Joker that he doesn’t notice when she’s in front of the car, standing to her feet. The gun feels heavy in her shaking hands. The last time he gave her a gun, she hid it. She refused to entertain the thought of having to use it.

Joker sees her first. His face is bloodied, the clown paint ruined. At first, his expression is unreadable. Is he surprised to see her? Angry that she got out of the car? Confused that this is all happening? An inkling of a smirk forms on his face before the officer’s heavy boot connects with it, a spray of blood hitting the concrete.

Sophie closes her eyes as she fires multiple shots, the only thing telling her that she didn’t miss being the sound of a body hitting the ground. She opens them then, the sight of the officer clutching his chest briefly paralyzing her. Joker’s groans snap her back to reality and she runs to him. She gets on her knees, pushing hair out of his face as he struggles to stand. “I’m okay,” he starts, but Sophie touches his face. He’s unrecognizable.

“You’re not.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“You—” she starts, but she stops herself to help him to his feet.

The officer looks up at them in confusion, then angered realization when he puts two and two together. “I lied.” Joker says, a chuckle escaping his lips.

Despite the dark fabric of the officer’s uniform, she can see several wet patches across his body. His heavy breathing suddenly stops and his expression becomes blank. Sophie turns her head, unable to look at the damage. The damage that she did. Joker senses her shift and motions her to the car.

She starts to ask if he’s okay to drive but he waves his hand. “I told you I’ll be okay.”

They end up on the outskirts of Gotham, parking the car on the city’s waterfront. The drive wasn’t long, but it felt never-ending. The silence between them only contributed to it. The only time he spoke was to inform his men of the situation and instruct them on what to do next. She had guessed right—he planned multiple bank robberies while their joyride took place. The cops would be so focused on chasing down Joker that the rest of his men could slip unnoticed into the banks, they even had the help of civilians who got them inside undetected. She wondered if any of them were her old coworkers, if they put on a front of being terrified but really sided with Joker the entire time. She didn’t have the energy to ask for specifics.

She couldn’t get the image of the dead officer out of her mind, the fast but crucial seconds leading up to it. How his confusion turned to anger when he realized he lost. She didn’t give him a choice, but she ultimately knew he was going to die either way. Better by her than Joker. Still, the thought refused to leave her. She killed someone.

Joker moves slowly as he gets out of the car, but doesn’t let Sophie help him. He even opens the door for her before limping over to sit on the hood. Sophie sits next to him, staring at the dark water ahead.

“This is where I took you when you wanted to get away,” he says. “Remember that?”

It takes a moment for the memory to come back to her and when it does, she laughs. Like everything, that moment feels like a lifetime away. She wanted him to leave her alone so badly so she could continue to live her boring, yet normal, life. But at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. She anticipated his every move. It hurt when he disappeared but when he finally came back, she had to tell herself to push him away despite wanting to see him again. It’s strange to think about how much she tried to deny her feelings. If she really wanted him gone, she would’ve left him waiting on the rooftop.

“I didn’t want you to leave.”

“Is that why you called the cops on me?”

“I had to get you back somehow.” He smirks. She couldn’t fake being annoyed even if she tried. Not after all of this.

“Thank you.”

He looks at her. “No. I should be thanking you. You saved my life.”

“I—It’s…” She trails off as she watches his expression. He doesn’t want her to downplay it. “I wish I didn’t have to…kill someone to do it.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No. I just, I don’t know how I’m supposed to live with it. I feel guilty but at the same time… I don’t know how to think like you, to just do it so naturally and move on like it never happened.”

“I don’t want you to think like me. What goes on in my mind is a horrible thing. Hold onto your humanity.”

“You don’t think you have any humanity left in you?”

“Do you?”

She finds herself thinking about Arthur again, of how often he got hurt. His revelations where he told her that she was the only thing that kept him from completely slipping. But even when he did, he still came back to her as a different man. She lost him, but she got Joker in the process.

Her fingers caress his face, careful to avoid any bruising. He closes his eyes and for a moment, he looks at ease. Not the confident demeanor he puts on for the public, but something else. She rarely sees him like this, even in their most intimate moments. His eyes meet hers again, waiting for her response. A flash, then it’s gone. Whatever it was, she’ll hold onto it. That slither of humanity deep within him, well-hidden for his sake. She understands why, but she also knows that she wouldn’t be with him if it didn’t exist.

“You know my answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I just want to say !!! THANK YOU !!! for sticking with me throughout this entire process! I know it took such a long time for me to finish, but I never forgot about it! You know how life is, it just gets really busy but I knew I needed to finish for you guys and I hope this ending is satisfying. I love writing about Sophie and Joker and despite everything, I always wanted them to have a happy ending. I think a lot of you feel that way too! I appreciate all of the comments and kudos I've gotten since the very beginning, you guys are the best, I cannot stress it enough. Thank you for everything! ❤️


End file.
